


Wielding A Double-Edged Sword

by Tarlan



Series: Waiting For the Axe to Fall [3]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager, The X-Files
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-28
Updated: 2003-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:38:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 73,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the USS Voyager comes across a derelict Colony ship, the past and present bring new hope for Alex and Mulder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wielding A Double-Edged Sword

_Hope is your survival.  
A captive path I lead._

 _No matter where you go, I will find you.  
If it takes a long, long time.  
No matter where you go, I will find you.  
If it takes a thousand years._

 _  
**'I Will Find You' by Clannad.**   
_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The massive circular ship drifted slowly in orbit around the dead planet, having been captured by the gravitational pull many decades earlier, thus ending its centuries long drift through the void. Fortune had smiled upon it for its orbit was stable and, if no other force acted upon it, then it would continue in its role as an artificial satellite until the end of space and time. No lights leaked from its interior; it was dark and gray, its surface dulled and pitted by stellar debris, its hull breached in more than a dozen places. It appeared dead, like the world that revolved below it. A fitting slave to its new master but, as it rotated around the dead world, coming out from the dark side, the hull glowed softly in the light of the aging red giant.

A new light, reflecting the blood red of the dying sun, appeared in the heavens, swiftly approaching the long deserted planet. Its sleek lines and graceful curves were reminiscent of earlier Starfleet vessels but this was a new design, the first of its type: a marvel of technical and biological engineering. The Starship Voyager slowed to impulse power and took up a synchronous orbit within transporter range.

"Sensors indicate..." An eyebrow raised in the Vulcan equivalent of surprise. "...Human life forms."

The First Officer rose from his seat and moved around the bridge until he was standing at Tuvok's shoulder. Chakotay looked at the readings, his dark eyes wide in surprise. Voyager had come across very few humans, since being catapulted across the galaxy by the mysterious being called the Caretaker. It had abducted them for experimentation, desperate to find a genetically compatible source in order to reproduce before it died. It didn't succeed in its quest, and on its death, it had left them stranded in the Delta Quadrant; seventy years from home.

Those humans that they had met on the long journey back to the Alpha Quadrant had mostly been victims of similar disasters; humans assimilated by the Borg, their individuality stolen from them as they were mutilated and slaved into the Hive mind. Others had been the offspring of humans abducted from Earth, over the millennia by alien races, for unknown reasons.

"Human? Not humanoid?"

Tuvok glanced sideways.

"Yes, Commander Chakotay. The readings are human... although there does seem to be residual dead tissue of another alien life form on board."

Chakotay frowned, leaning in to study the readings, as if he could not believe the truth before his eyes.

"How many humans?"

"Sixty-four, but the life signs are very weak."

Both men turned to face their Captain, awaiting her decision. Captain Janeway frowned; feeling there was something very important about this vessel. The long-range scanners had picked up the spacecraft as Voyager was passing the system and, with her curiosity piqued as always, she had ordered the small detour, but she had never dreamed that they would find human life signs on board. Sensors indicated it was several centuries old but it bore no resemblance to the sleeper ships that had left Earth following the Eugenics Wars and, anyhow, they had all been accounted for. Something niggled at the back of her mind.

"Chakotay, inform the Command Crew I want them in my Ready Room in fifteen minutes."

As Chakotay began to relay her wishes, she turned to look back at the ship on the viewscreen, murmuring softly to herself.

"How did these humans get so far from home?"

-ooOOoo-

 **USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

Janeway glanced around the table, as the last of her Command Crew took their seats. Their expressions had looked both expectant and excited upon entry to the Ready Room but now showed only concern as they took in their Captain's grim countenance; the exception being the seemingly emotionless Tuvok who merely raised an eyebrow in interest. Janeway had used her fifteen minutes to call up data on a half-remembered history seminar, and everything had fallen into place soon after. Her crew waited patiently for her to begin, realizing she had something important to say: something that required a great amount of thought as if she was trying to justify some major decision. Her eyes stopped a moment on each face, her concerned expression lightening a little as her First Officer caught her gaze.

Decision made.

As always, she could see the respect for human life written so plainly in his dark eyes and she knew he would not want them to walk away from these sixty-four human lives without making some attempt to save them... no matter the danger she had discovered. She leaned back in her chair, eyes passing across those present.

"Does anyone here recall human pre-warp history from the late twentieth/early twenty-first century?"

Lieutenant Tom Paris raised both eyebrows. "I take it these are not more of the 37's?"

Janeway smiled at his intuition. She was pleased someone had considered the possibility that this was one of the craft that had been abducting humans from Earth long before First Contact had been made with the Vulcan people. They had come across a planet, soon after finding themselves lost in the Delta Quadrant, and discovered that it was populated with the descendants of abductees. For a while there had been a strong temptation to abandon the dangerous journey home, knowing that they could live out their lives with these other lost humans. In the end, though, all of the crew had decided to go on, willing to face the danger if it meant they might see their loved ones again.

Her smile dropped away.

"I wish it were, Tom." She looked around the room. "At the end of the Twentieth Century, Earth faced an enemy as dangerous as the Borg." She stopped and looked around as confused or startled expressions formed on almost every face.

"What could be as dangerous as the Borg?" asked her Chief Engineer.

Janeway turned to answer B'Elanna Torres's question but she was pre-empted by a whisper from across the table.

"Colonists."

Janeway looked back at the recently reinstated Lieutenant and nodded. "You seem to know all about this, Tom. Perhaps you would care to tell everyone."

At first Paris was taken aback, wondering whether Janeway was annoyed by his interruption, but the look of genuine interest on her face made him take a deep breath.

"The story goes that we were not the first sentient life form indigenous to Earth. However, the first ones packed up and left, not wanting to hang around when the asteroid that eventually killed off the dinosaurs, struck the Earth. A few stayed behind, lying dormant, appearing every now and then to increase folklore. Then another asteroid or meteor struck at Tunguska at the turn of the 20th century. The early people had returned and they wanted the planet back but found they now had competition: us. They lay down plans to conquer and re-colonize. A lot of pre-Eugenics history was lost so it's still a little foggy whether the world's leaders were aware of the situation. Certainly there was a Consortium of powerful figures involved in the Colonization Plans. Records show that most were going along with the Plan to buy our people time to build defenses, but others had been promised power. The biggest lie was that we, the humans, would become enslaved as host bodies for the Colonists - or just slaves generally. In fact, the Colonists intended to use humans like... like wasps use Holly Miners. The...larva, for want of a better word, would be implanted into a human and take nourishment from the surrounding bone and tissue, basically eating them alive from the inside as they matured into fully grown aliens."

Harry Kim looked on in horror. Despite having seen many strange things since their journey home began, the young Ensign could still not reconcile himself with some of the more horrific sights. All too clearly he recalled the Vidiians, a race afflicted with a terrible phage that ate away at their bodies; a race who waylaid ships in order to steal body parts from compatible life forms in order to sustain their own existence. Voyager had almost fallen into their hands on several occasions, barely escaping each time, and never without the loss of people who had become as close as any family. It horrified him to learn that there were even more sentient races out there, like the Borg, which had no respect for other sentient life forms. He listened as Tom continued.

"The Consortium abducted and experimented on thousands of humans, as part of the Colonization Plan but some members used this as a cover for their own experiments; producing a biological defense against the Colonists. The whole thing was uncovered, eventually, by an FBI agent..."

"FBI?" The alien, Neelix, frowned at the unknown acronym.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation - a sort of national police force in what was the United States of America."

"Go on, Tom," Janeway waved her hand, not wanting Tom to get sidetracked.

"This agent uncovered the Plan and, with help from another alien race... no one knows which... and fellow human Resistance fighters, he organized the release of a bio-agent that effectively poisoned the Earth for the Colonists. However, when they left for the second time they took with them the tens of thousands of 'larvae-impregnated' humans they had already gathered." He took another breath. "There's not much more, it's all shrouded in mystery. In fact, the vast majority of humans never knew anything about it. The whole episode was considered one of the greatest conspiracies of all time - so they called it 'The Silent War'." Paris looked at his Captain. "You think this is one of those Colonist ships?"

Janeway nodded.

"According to the historians, there were at least three of these ships. None have ever been located... until now." She turned to face her Head of Security. "Everything Tom said, and more, can be found in the memory banks with a Class 1 Directive to destroy any Colonist vessel or entities on contact."

Chakotay frowned. "But there are sixty-four humans on board that ship."

"I know..." Her face softened "...and I don't intend to kill them unless there is no alternative."

If circumstances had been different then she would have followed the Directive to the letter but Voyager was far from home - and so were these innocent humans.

"This ship would have contained at least seven thousand human hosts. It's not beyond the realms of possibility that the.." she glanced at Paris, "larvae in those sixty-four humans died from some unknown cause."

Ensign Kim spoke up. "Captain, I can pinpoint the location of the sixty-four humans." He tapped a few controls of the computer console in front of him and watched as a high level schematic of the alien ship appeared on the large viewscreen. "As you can see, sixty-three of them are in one small area near the outer hull."

"Which lends credence to your supposition, Captain, that something killed the larvae in those humans. Perhaps exposure to some toxic element, radiation or even faulty equipment."

Janeway nodded approvingly at the Vulcan. "What about the sixty-fourth?"

Harry Kim pointed to the very center of the ship. "Right next to the Command Center. Probably the last one in. However, there is another problem. Transporters will penetrate into this outer area through one of the hull breaches, but we'd have to go on foot to reach the center and carry this one back -- that's if you give us the order."

Janeway smiled and waved her hand nonchalantly at the junior officer.

"Tuvok, I want you to prepare an Away Team. Include the Doctor. Concentrate on the sixty-three in the outer area. If there is no sign of Colonist activity, and successful recovery of these humans is possible then -- and only then -- will I authorize an Away Team to retrieve the sixty-fourth."

Janeway turned back to the viewscreen as Tuvok's affirmation drifted across the table.

"Captain, I'd like to be included on this mission."

Janeway looked into the dark eyes of her First Officer and nodded her assent, having already realized how much he valued all life and knowing he would want to be there so that he could say that they *had* made every attempt to save these people. She faced Tom Paris as he started to make the same request.

"I'm sorry, Tom. What we are about to do contravenes a Class 1 Directive. I need you at the helm in case we need to made a quick escape."

Paris dampened the disappointment that crossed his face.

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Harry, B'Elanna, Seven..." She turned to the small alien "...and Neelix. I want to be fully prepared *before* our guests start to arrive."

"We can use one of the shuttle bays as temporary quarters," Harry Kim added quickly.

"Seven and I will set up containment fields. Just in case."

Janeway nodded approvingly at B'Elanna.

"And I will cook up enough to feed a hungry army. My Palaffiger special with HanFa beans and wild frico rice."

Janeway smiled, grateful for the light relief Neelix brought to every situation, as he rubbed his hands in eager anticipation.

-ooOOoo-

 **Two Hours Later  
On Board the Colonist Ship**

Chakotay and Tuvok moved slowly around the airless interior; their cumbersome environment suits protecting them against more than just the lack of oxygen. Decayed human and alien tissue posed a serious biological threat to an unprotected person. Unhindered by 'life' and, therefore, having no need for an Environment Suit, the Holographic Doctor moved with greater ease, registering his awe and horror at the sights laid before him.

"It certainly seems to be some kind of human container ship. There are literally thousands of these cryopods but this occupant looks like he decayed or dissolved centuries ago - or was eaten just as Lt. Paris described." He grimaced. "I'd like to take one of these back to Voyager. We'll need to set up a Class 1 containment field."

"Doctor, I'm certain that could be arranged at a later time but for now, there are sixty-four living humans on board and I would rather see them tended to first."

"Yes, of course, Commander. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Tuvok's emotionless voice cut across. "Doctor, this one is alive."

The Doctor scanned the cryopod with his medical tricorder, registering the dormant remains of what must once have been a virulent virus. He checked with Voyager's bio-filters and was not surprised to find that they registered the virus and recognized it instantly under a file that had remained both unknown and inaccessible to him until a few hours earlier. Not only were they capable of filtering out the virus but the database had also provided him with a powerful vaccine to eradicate it from its human host.

As he looked closely at the readings on his medical tricorder, one more thing became obvious to him.

"Commander. I see no reason why we cannot beam these people directly out of the cryopods and into Sickbay, although the revival process would begin immediately."

"It's certainly worth the risk -- and faster than cutting these pods out of the walls."

"And it is less likely to advertise our presence to any hostile being left on board this ship."

Chakotay nodded his agreement. Tuvok was right. The less intrusion they made the better the chance of recovering all of these people, for who knew what shielding abilities the Colonists may have had. For all he knew they could be watching them right now, just waiting for an opportune moment to strike. He contacted the ship on a closed channel and then relayed the message to the others.

"B'Elanna has set up a containment field for our survivors. Have this.." he reached over and rubbed across the film of ice that covered the cryopod to reveal a human face, "...woman beamed directly to Sickbay. We'll deal with each one in turn."

The Doctor turned to face Commander Chakotay. "I shall return to Voyager to monitor the process and administer the vaccine."

"We'll continue on here and tag the survivors."

-ooOOoo-

The Doctor paused, as the cold, naked body of the twenty-eighth human, who was covered in a green viscous fluid, coalesced before his eyes within the transporter effect. He administered the vaccine immediately and then added a light sedative to augment the sedating drug still present in the woman's system. Every single retrieved human had revived within a few moments of being released from the cryogenic life pod, and every single one had been dazed and frightened by their new surroundings. The additional sedative kept his latest patient calm, as she walked away with a crewmember to be cleaned and clothed and then placed with the other survivors in Shuttle Bay Two.

He gave the signal and a bright light heralded the arrival of survivor twenty-nine.

-ooOOoo-

Janeway paused as her stride took her to the window in her Ready Room. She gazed out at the dark circular mass that was the alien spacecraft. An increased glow from the dulled and pitted exterior heralded its path from out of the planet's shadow and back into the crimson light of the red dwarf. From here it looked so beautiful, like a ruby hanging against black velvet, that it was hard to believe it could host such danger for them all.

A chime intruded upon her reverie.

"Enter."

Commander Chakotay moved over to the window to stand by her side.

"We have successfully retrieved and revived the sixty-three." She nodded her approval so he took a deep breath and continued on. "There has been no sign of Colonist activity, so I'd like to try for the sixty-fourth."

This was the moment she had been dreading, when she had to make the decision to send someone into a possibly hostile environment with no back up. It was tempting to sacrifice this one remaining survivor. No one would blame her, especially as she had already done more than the Directive allowed.

No, not true, she thought. She would blame herself. This human's death would haunt her if they made no attempt at rescue, and she had a feeling that it would greatly overshadow her crew's rejoicing in the lives they *had* managed to save. She nodded wearily.

"Take the Doctor and a security detachment. Full communications black-out unless you run into trouble... although you'll be on your own if..."

The unspoken words hung between them. If the Away Team ran into trouble then there was little chance of them receiving any help from Voyager. Janeway had made that clear right from the start when she had asked for volunteers rather than post the security team from the duty roster. The communication was merely to warn Voyager to get away -- fast. She knew she would not be able to dissuade Chakotay from leading the party, and ordering him to stand down and let another go in his place would benefit neither of them. She watched as he nodded his acceptance of her unspoken words before heading for the door to make his preparations.

"Chakotay. Take care."

The Commander paused on the threshold and gave her a reassuring smile, and then he strode away, the door swishing closed behind him.

-ooOOoo-

 **Derelict Colonist Ship  
Delta Quadrant**

The corridors of the Colonist ship were cold and dark; the beams of light from their sleeve flashlights played across pod after pod of seemingly eviscerated and dissolved human corpses. Thankfully, most of the cryopods seemed to be covered in a thick crust of ice, hiding the horrifying sight from view but, now and again, Chakotay's glance would fall upon staring dead eyes, seeing the fear still evident even after all these centuries. The humans had been drugged and so they were barely aware of being placed in the pods although, from their eyes, Chakotay was certain they must have registered some knowledge of what was happening to them. Fortunately, the temperature lowering process would have sent them into open-eyed unconsciousness before the alien entity could begin its gestation. They would have felt no more pain.

Nothing stirred along the corridors. Their tricorders -- scanning for anything organic from a single-celled virus upwards -- read only the single living life form ahead of them, although the reading seemed rather distorted. It read as predominantly human but there was something else in there too, some non-human material in the genetic make-up of the individual. However, it was not inconceivable that this person might be a hybrid; even in those pre-warp days there were individuals of mixed human/alien blood, for it was well known that Earth had been visited many times before forming that first alliance with the Vulcans.

Twenty minutes later they reached the Command Center and went directly to the cryopod of the sixty-fourth survivor.

Chakotay rubbed away the thick layer of frost that had formed over the pod and stared straight into a pair of green eyes; eyes that were wide open in horror and, unlike the others, this victim had one hand raised, as if trying to push away the cryopod's cover.

"Hmm? Strange." The Doctor peered closely at the readings as he waved the tricorder over the centuries-old cryopod. "I thought the surrounding atmosphere might be affecting the tricorder reading, but there is definitely something unusual about this man's genetic make-up."

The Doctor leaned across. He studied the figure that stood before them in suspended animation, as if he was searching for some visible sign of alien heritage in the all-too-human face.

"Colonist DNA?"

"No. Not Colonist, and not any other race known to the Federation. Also, I don't register the dormant virus in his system... and he's been shot, twice."

"Shot?"

"He has metal fragments embedded in his right thigh, and high in his chest. Trauma of the surrounding tissue implies a high velocity projectile." The Doctor looked up from his medical tricorder. "Commander, the chest wound is potentially serious, and I don't have the necessary tools with me to repair the damage. If we remove him from the cryopod he may bleed to death by the time we reach Voyager."

Chakotay pursed his lips and stared once more into the wide-spaced green eyes. Janeway had told him to leave this one if there was anything at all suspicious about him but, although this was unforeseen, it had nothing to do with Colonist impregnation. However, their rescue attempt had taken a turn for the worse for the only option left open to them, beyond walking away and leaving this man to his fate, could place them all in grave danger. He drew a deep, ragged breath and turned so he could see Tuvok through the facemask of his environment suit.

"Can we remove the cryopod from the wall and take the entire unit back to Voyager?"

Tuvok hesitated for a fraction of a second, long enough for Chakotay to recognize that Tuvok was fully aware of the implications. However, instead of questioning the wisdom of taking such a course of action, his response gave Chakotay tacit agreement.

"I do not see why not. Unlike the others it is not connected. The tube joining the mouthpiece seems to have withered away centuries before."

Chakotay nodded, grateful for both Tuvok's non-verbal support of his decision, and for the fact that he'd had the foresight to bring along a portable anti-grav unit.

"Then let's do it... and then let's get out of here."

The sound of the cutting equipment shrieked in the dead air surrounding them, setting every member of the rescue team on edge. Their anxious eyes scanned the gloom of the corridors radiating out from this point, as if half-expecting the long-dead aliens to slither from the very walls. However, it preyed on Chakotay's mind that the creatures had survived as Black Oil back on Earth for millennia before being awoken by man -- if history was to be believed. With that fleeting doubt flashing through him, Chakotay's eyes darted to the dust and debris-laden floor searching for any signs of Black Oil. He licked dry lips, silently reprimanding himself for allowing that momentary fear to grip him until he almost jumped at the darkened shadow of one of the security team.

The trip back through the dark corridors seemed more eerie and menacing than before, as if they were traveling through a haunted, gloomy cemetery at the dead of night on All Hallows Eve. Chakotay let out a sudden breath, as he realized just how close the analogy was to the truth. His spiritual side cried out at the wasted life around him, feeling the weight of thousands of souls pressing against him, strangely reminiscent of another alien cemetery they had come across soon after arriving in the Delta Quadrant.

The small rescue party stopped when a strange sound echoed along the deserted corridors, eyes straining to see into the darkness beyond the ring of light thrown out by their flashlights. Cutting the cryopod from the wall had been a calculated risk; a risk that Janeway would be annoyed they had taken considering the unusual circumstances surrounding this man's encapsulation. The noise of the cutting equipment had seemed far too loud in the profound silence of the deserted corridors, and there had been no guarantee that severing the cryopod from the wall would not have tripped an ancient alarm elsewhere in the ship.

They had paused at an intersection of several corridors, the eyes of every member of the team flitting around the corridors as the tension became almost unbearable, but nothing stirred beyond that initial sound. Chakotay turned towards the corridor wall, grimacing when his eyes met the long-dead stare of an eviscerated man, but the sight was enough to break the spell rooting him to the spot. He tapped the nearest figure and made a gesture to move onwards, seeing the apology in his crewman's eyes when the woman visibly startled. They began the slow journey forward once more.

Another ten minutes and then, ahead of him, Chakotay could see the return beacon. There were still no other life forms registering on their tricorders but still he shuddered, wanting to get off this tomb of a ship as quickly as possible. He realized that he was probably sensing the ghosts of long dead humans and he hoped Voyager's next action would lay all of these tormented spirits to rest. He glanced around catching the tense look upon the face of Ensign Rourke and tried to smile supportively, but feared all he had produced was a fear-laden grimace.

"Chakotay to Voyager. Beacon placed on survivor. Requesting immediate beam-out."

As he disintegrated within the transporter effect, Chakotay thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, something black and oily slithering across the corridor floor towards them. The solid wall of the Transporter Room coalesced around him and he breathed a deep sigh of relief as he counted everyone. All were present. He waited while the bio-filters destroyed anything it found that shouldn't be there, both inside and outside of the Away Team members' bodies. No chances were being taken, and when the all clear came, he removed the helmet of his environment suit, drawing in a deep breath of the ship's manufactured air.

Chakotay contacted the bridge.

"Captain, all safe aboard but I think you might want to go to Sickbay to see what we brought back. I'm heading there myself."

"As am I."

Chakotay stared at the evident curiosity in his Security Chief's face and nodded.

-ooOOoo-

Janeway contacted Sickbay immediately.

"Doctor, whatever it is they brought back I would appreciate it if you would wait for me before doing anything... unless our survivor's life is in danger. I have a job to do before I can leave the bridge."

"Understood, Captain"

Janeway turned to the Weapons Control.

"Tom, move us away from the area. Ensign Kim, ready a photon torpedo and target that ship."

"Aye, Aye, Captain. Photon torpedo ready."

She stared at it with almost uncontrollable malevolence; her voice hard and cold as she issued the order that would send this ship and its long dead occupants into oblivion.

"Fire."

Everyone stared up at the viewscreen as the torpedo sped away from Voyager to strike the alien vessel. A blaze of light and heat radiated outwards as the ship disintegrated into the molecules from which it had been created, to be scattered forever within the dying planetary system.

"Tom, get us back on course for the Alpha Quadrant. Warp Two. Then turn the helm over to Ensign Wright. We're going to see what they brought back from that ship."

"Aye, Aye, Captain."

She grinned at his eager response, well aware that he had been disappointed at not being given the opportunity to be a part of the Away team. She waited until he had completed her request, and then walked to the turbolift with an excited Lt. Paris barely a few steps behind.

-ooOOoo-

When Janeway and Paris entered Sickbay they found the place a hive of activity with substantially more bystanders than medical staff. Details released by the Captain had brought to the surface old memories from childhood for, although firmly based in fact, the Colonist Plan had seeped into legend, fueling many a story used by parents to frighten small children into doing as they were told. Coming face-to-face with the reality brought a morbid curiosity welling up inside many of the humans on board.

B'Elanna Torres looked up, too fascinated by what she had in front of her to notice the crowd.

"It's amazing, Captain. A cryogenic chamber that uses a liquid coolant to lower the body temperature without ever reaching below -10 Kelvin. The chemical reaction within the coolant negates the need for an external power source. This chamber could run indefinitely."

Janeway and Paris moved forward until they could see the upright cryopod. Beside it, the Doctor worked quietly and efficiently.

"I'm almost ready to remove him."

The Doctor looked up and then, for the first time, he noticed the crewmembers crowded into the room around the containment Field and spilling into the corridor beyond. There must have been thirty or forty of them.

"Captain, perhaps it would be better if we cleared Sickbay of all non-essential personnel."

"Perhaps, but is it truly necessary."

The Doctor looked at the cryopod. The exterior had frosted back up on the journey through the Colonist ship, but was beginning to thaw within the warmth of the ship's Sickbay. As he stared at the faceplate, he could just make out the horror-filled green eyes through the rime, and he remembered the reaction of the other sixty-three survivors: frightened, traumatized and disorientated by the strange place in which they had found themselves.

"Yes, Captain. I believe it may be necessary and, in this particular case, I believe I will need assistance from Lt. Paris -- and Commander Tuvok."

Janeway turned to face her crew. "I'm sorry people but you heard the Doctor."

B'Elanna Torres approached. "I can set up a link to the viewscreen outside Sickbay. Probably a better view than being here."

"Will that be permissible, Doctor?"

The Doctor frowned, glancing at the barely visible human within the cryopod but, knowing what lay ahead for him, he realized it would be a serious breach of privacy for the individual held suspended within the chamber. If the man survived the revival process then the chances were that he would become a full member of this crew for the remainder of their journey back to the Alpha Quadrant. That fact alone made him question the public viewing of his release from the cryopod. This human would have to live among people who had seen him under the worst of circumstances but, as he stared around at the expectant faces of Voyager's crew, he relented slightly.

"Audio only."

Captain Janeway frowned at the Doctor's decision but then her eyes widened slightly in realization. It was so easy to allow scientific curiosity to camouflage the fact that the man held in stasis was a living, sentient being. She nodded both her apology and acceptance to the Doctor and turned back to her Chief Engineer.

"Do it."

A few minutes later the room was cleared except for a small cluster of people. The slightly disgruntled yet still curious crewmembers milled about outside, listening carefully to every word spoken within Sickbay.

"Doctor, what will be my role in this procedure?"

"Restraint."

Tuvok raised one eyebrow; the Captain raised both of hers.

"The previous sixty-three humans were in a slightly different situation to this one. The rescue team was able to beam them out of the chamber, and yet it still took another full minute before each revived sufficiently to register their new surroundings, giving me plenty of opportunity to administer the vaccine and a mild sedative." He turned to indicate the strange cryopod. "His case is far different. Perhaps Commander Chakotay would care to explain while I finish the preparations."

Chakotay stood straighter as all eyes turned to him.

"The others had all been drugged and were only barely conscious during the initial stage of their encapsulation. The drug was still in their system for the first few minutes after revival. Unlike these others, there doesn't seem to have been the same attention paid to his preparation before he was sealed into the unit, and he had been shot immediately beforehand. He was struggling when they stripped him and forced in the mouthpiece. I would guess they punched him in the face to stun him while they sealed the unit; his nose and cheekbone are broken. And he was very much aware when the coolant was added, trying to smash his fist through the faceplate."

They all looked back to where Chakotay indicated and saw how most of the ice had melted away leaving the chamber's occupant fully visible for the first time. A collective murmur was released at their first sight of the raised fist frozen into place as the man tried to beat against the inside of his tomb. Yet it was the expression in the wide eyes that was most disturbing: terror and anger vying for possession across the damaged face.

The Doctor continued.

"There is no trace of a paralyzing or sedating agent in his system. When I open the chamber he will revive instantaneously, as if he had been forced in there only moments before rather than over three centuries earlier." He added wryly. "And judging by his posture, he's likely to be... aggressive. Are we ready?"

Janeway and the others held their breath as the Doctor released the lock. The fluid rushed away, soaking the floor of Sickbay in a layer of viscous green fluid, and within seconds, the human occupant began to thrash. Tuvok reached forward, ignoring the fist glancing off his cheekbone, and he managed to grip the human tightly. The Doctor brought a hypospray over and pressed it against the man's neck. The green eyes closed as the strong sedative took control and then, working together, Paris and Tuvok reached in to gather up the human. Paris raised both eyebrows as he took the man's legs; Tuvok placed an arm around the leather-clad shoulders and they lifted him clear of the chamber, laying him onto the medtable.

The Doctor frowned at the sight of the soaked, heavy material bunched around the man's lower thighs, and the ripped, saturated T-shirt hanging heavily down each side of the torso. The semi-naked body was exposed from head to just below the groin.

"It seems your suspicions were correct, Commander." Tom Paris paused in his administration long enough to give Chakotay an admiring glance. "They didn't even remove his clothing completely, just pushed enough aside to expose him where necessary. Also, from the state of the dead humans, I'd say the... larvae grew in the stomach or lower abdomen and then clawed its way out of the dead husk once matured."

The Doctor worked quickly to staunch the flow of blood from the chest injury while Paris started on the thigh wound. By the time he had sealed the internal tearing, Paris had managed to cut away the trousers and had begun sterilizing the damaged area. The Doctor glanced over as Paris carefully removed the projectile fragment, nodding his approval at his assistant's careful attention. Paris had replaced his former assistant, Kes, following her unusual departure, and over the years, he had become invaluable, splitting his time - admittedly unevenly - between his two duty stations. Several other crewmembers shared medical duties with him but none were as quick and bright as Paris. The Doctor sighed. It was a shame the young man preferred his piloting duties, else he would have asked Janeway to assign Paris to Sickbay permanently.

Once the major injuries had been seen to the Doctor began to remove the mouthpiece and withered tube that had been pushed down the victim's throat and into his stomach. After setting the broken nose and cheekbone, the Doctor picked up the Dermal Regenerator and began to heal the surrounding tissue, watching as the livid bruising faded to a pale yellow around the eye socket. Repairing the tear through the human's lower lip and the damage to the back of the throat took only slightly longer.

"They certainly weren't too interested in his comfort when they inserted the tube. There are lacerations and tears all along the esophagus but..."

He sighed, shaking his head in dismay, then carried on down the bruised and battered body, across a large welt just above the collarbone. Then he worked along the massive discoloration upon the rib cage to the blue and purple bruising on the vulnerable, soft tissue of the abdomen and groin; repairing the damage quickly and efficiently. He stepped back and looked down in approval as Tom Paris finished cleaning and repairing the scraped knuckles and the lacerations along the outside edge of the man's right hand.

"There. Good as new."

Janeway stared at the still wet and naked form. "Good work, Doctor, Tom." She turned to the other members of the rescue team. "Good work, everybody."

"Would you like me to bring him round?"

"No. Let's allow him to wake up in his own time, Doctor... but let me know when he does. I've a feeling his will be an interesting story."

-ooOOoo-

It was the sound of someone humming 'opera' tunefully that first made some impression, dragging his sleep-fogged mind back to the surface. He blinked once... twice... before his eyes could adjust to waking. The lights overhead were dim and he turned his head automatically to find the source of the sound.

Despite the melodic humming, the place seemed empty. His first thought was that this was some kind of medical facility... but where and whose? Memories of Consortium laboratories flooded into his head, as he recalled some of the obscene experimentation carried out both in the fight for and against the Colonists. Equally, it could have been part of the Resistance's own secret medical facilities, and he half-expected to see Dana Scully walk into view at any moment.

His eyes focused harder, trying to find anything that might give him a clue. The sterile looking room looked surprisingly spacious, and the walls, though barely visible in the dim light, were covered in ultra-modern computer panels. Eventually, his eyes strayed to a separate area, walled in by transparent material and bathed in full light. It also seemed empty until a tall, mostly bald figure in a dark, figure-hugging black jumpsuit wavered into view.

Alex frowned in confusion, blinking rapidly to try and focus more strongly. He tried to raise his hand, wanting to rub away the sleep -- and the disbelief -- which filled his eyes. However, his limbs felt so heavy... too heavy and he glanced down for a moment, almost expecting to find they had restrained him.

Must be drugged, he thought as he realized there were no restraints.

The man straightened suddenly, the humming ending abruptly, and then he looked in Alex's direction, a smile curving his mouth. He said something too soft for Alex to hear, and the lights brightened just a little. Alex squeezed his eyes shut at the stronger light that seemed to pierce through his head, and then he blinked rapidly to displace the film of tears that had formed in response to the still weak light. When he re-opened his eyes fully, the strange man was standing above him, and Alex wondered how he could have moved up beside him so quickly and so silently, covering over fifteen feet of floor space in the blink of an eye.

Definitely drugged, he thought, trying to keep his face impassive as he stared up at the stranger.

"Awake at last. How are you feeling?"

"Where..?"

Any attempt to intimidate the man was lost as he heard the weakness in his own voice. His throat was dry and raw, and he tried, unsuccessfully, to find some moisture in his mouth to ease it. He was stunned when, moments later, the man lifted his head to place a straw between his dry lips... but the cool liquid felt so good to his parched body. Strange, but he hadn't seen the man fetch a drink for him, or reach to any surface close by and yet... here it was.

"I expect you want to ask 'Where am I'." Alex nodded warily at the strange man in his strange clothes. "You're on Voyager."

"Voya..?"

A swishing noise caught his attention and he turned towards the sound in time to see a petite woman stride into the room. Her short brown hair framed a kind but firm face. She wore a similar jumpsuit to the man, but hers had red instead of blue across the shoulders. He guessed her age to be a decade over his own and sensed, by the slight deference the man gave to her, that she held a higher ranking within this Voyager. She smiled warmly -- and genuinely -- her blue eyes holding that warmth without a trace of anything more than slight concern for his well being.

"Hello. My name's Katherine Janeway. How are you feeling?"

His eyes narrowed in distrust, not willing to accept the friendly overtures that tried to lull him into a false sense of security. He'd seen the Consortium Doctor's use this same technique on those who fell into their grasp; gaining their victim's trust then leading them to their fate... like lambs to the slaughter. He tried to push himself up onto his elbows but a wave of dizziness and exhaustion flowed over him.

"Please, don't try to get up." She reached down and laid a small hand on his chest. "You're still a little weak from your ordeal."

"What is this place?" he snarled weakly, trying to bat away the hand.

Alex tried to rise again, blood starting to pump faster through his veins as adrenaline flashed through his blood stream. Those small, gentle but strong hands pushed him back down, and, with increasing alarm; he found he did not have the strength to resist. Survival instincts, honed through years on the run from Spender and then through years of covertly leading the Human Resistance, came to the forefront and he tried to roll out of her grasp.

"I'll explain all later... when you're a little stronger." Dimly, he registered the increasing concern in her voice as she tried to hold onto him. "Rest assured you're in safe hands. You have nothing to fear from us."

The woman glanced across at her associate and nodded, giving Alex more cause to fear as he saw the man approach with a small metallic cylinder held in his grasp. A strange hiss against his neck brought a dimming to his senses and, try as he might, he could not fight the sleepiness that came over him. Calm words from a masculine voice followed him down into unconsciousness.

"Just a mild sedative, to help you sleep."

-ooOOoo-

His eyes snapped open; memory resurfacing to find his dream was, in truth, reality. The spacious, sterile room with its computer panels and examination tables was still here, as was the tall, imposing man in the dark jumpsuit with the blue shoulders. He was humming again, and Alex fancied that he recognized the tune as an aria from Madame Butterfly.

"Ahh. Awake again. You should be feeling more rested now."

The man offered his arm and, after a moment's hesitation, Alex grasped it, using it as leverage to pull himself into a sitting position. He swung his legs over the side, noticing for the first time the pale blue gown that covered him.

"Who are you? And where are my clothes?"

"I'm the Doctor. As to your clothing... I'm afraid they were a little... distressed, but these should fit you perfectly."

The Doctor brought over a bundle containing various items including soft boots, tunic and pants, and he set them onto the bed next to Alex. Most of a minute passed as he watched Alex with a smile that appeared almost smug, then his eyes narrowed in puzzlement when Alex had still made no move to dress. He let out a slow breath when he finally got the silent message.

"I'll leave you to get dressed... alone."

As soon as the Doctor had moved out of view, Alex shrugged out of the gown and quickly pulled on the clothes, impressed that they were a perfect fit, although not really his style, already missing his trusty leather jacket and black denim. He glanced around the medical center, as he pulled on the clothing and boots but could see nothing that he could use as a weapon, and then he quickly calculated how fast he could reach the door in his currently debilitated state. However, almost as soon as he finished dressing, and before he could set both feet back on the ground, the Doctor reappeared, once more startling Alex who could not make out where he could have come from.

'Have to be other doors behind the paneling,' he considered as he eyed the walls of the facility, wondering where the hidden entrances might be.

"Captain Janeway will be here to see you in a moment."

The door opened and the diminutive woman that he half-remembered from before approached, followed closely by a man with a strange tattoo over his left temple. Alex had already guessed that this was some type of military base but he didn't recognize the uniform these people wore. That filled him with concern as he wondered how this organization had managed to hide itself from the Resistance. The introduction of her companion substantiated his guess that he had fallen into the hands of a paramilitary organization that might easily be part of the Consortium.

"...and this is Commander Chakotay." She paused, her eyes displaying some uncertainty that she had his complete attention.

Dark eyes, once again, full of genuine concern with quite possibly a touch of pity, bored into his own, holding him fast with a commanding air. However, Alex could sense that this was a man who did not have to fight to earn anyone's respect. Power and strength of character oozed from him, just as it did with the Captain but, although Alex would normally trust in his instincts, there were too many anomalies surrounding these people. The man stepped forward.

"I expect you have a lot of questions. I know I would have in your place but you will have to be open-minded. The answers may not be the ones you want to hear. But, first of all, would you care to tell us your name?"

-ooOOoo-

Janeway waited, strangely unsurprised when their latest addition to Voyager remained silent. She had already decided that this man was different from the others. He had a hunted look about him... of a man unwilling to trust without good reason. Somehow she knew he might be loath to part with his identity on request so she had ordered a check through the DNA records kept on the ship's computer. However, that had not revealed his identity, but that was hardly surprising, as the alien DNA within him had masked much of his humanity.

She waited a moment longer but saw no softening in his stance and realized that he would not part with his name until they had gained his trust.

"No? Perhaps later then."

"Where am I?"

Janeway had already decided that there was little point holding back the truth. Sooner or later he would discover where he was and she would have lost any hope of building his trust in her - not that there seemed to be any likelihood of that happening at this moment. However, she was not a quitter. She had persevered with Seven of Nine, slowly building a strong relationship of trust and friendship with the ex-Borg, drawing her out of her shell and back into the embrace of humanity. She would persevere here too, part of her instinctively knowing that he would be someone who would be worth all that effort.

"Where are you?" she repeated softly.

A similar question had started a group discussion with the other sixty-three survivors but Janeway knew that this man had a different history leading up to his presence on board the Colonist ship. All the others had related a similar story; a strange compulsion to go to a meeting place crowded with others where they were enclosed within a strange white light before being taken on board an alien craft. All had felt nervous yet detached from what was happening around them -- and to them -- and Janeway suspected that this was the effect of the sedating drug introduced into their systems. They recalled walking, in a dreamlike state, along darkened corridors lined with people encapsulated into the very walls before being urged into their own small alcove. It sealed them in but the only alarm had come when the strange tube passed into their throats, and then the icy liquid had seeped into the chamber where they were cocooned. After that they recalled nothing more until they arrived in Sickbay.

Having once allowed herself to be taken captive by the Borg, in an attempt to retrieve a vital component from one of their Cubes, Janeway could sympathize with the survivors. While on the Borg Cube she had witnessed the capture of a small ship, watching powerless as the twelve dazed humanoids were led to the assimilation chambers to be stripped of their individuality and turned into Borg drones.

"You're on board the Starship Voyager."

" **Starship**... Voyager?"

"I'm sorry. There's no way to soften the blow. You were abducted by aliens... Colonists... over three centuries ago. We came across the ship and rescued you and sixty-three others."

"There were thousands..." the reticent survivor stared at her with green eyes widened in shock as he whispered hoarsely, and she felt renewed compassion for him. Whatever role he had played on board that ship, he had not been part of the cruel encapsulation and murder of those people.

"Dead. They'd been dead for centuries. Somehow, you and the sixty-three others survived."

"Centuries?"

Janeway felt the prickling sensation of tears as she looked deeply into the puzzled green eyes, watching the struggle as the man tried to come to terms with what she was saying. Like the other sixty-three men and women he had been ripped away from everything he knew, and everyone he held dear -- and possibly loved.

Once more she wished they had left Deep Space 9 with a counselor on board but the best she could do was tell it to them straight, and hope they would find emotional support from each other and from the members of her crew. Her own crew had suffered a similar blow when they realized they were a lifetime away from the people they loved and cared for. Somehow, Janeway would have to give these lost humans a new hope for the future. However, it was not lost on her that the Earth they were returning to would be a far different place to the one they had left three centuries ago and, unlike her crew, their loved ones were long dead and buried.

Once again, Janeway was thankful for the people she had been blessed with on this long voyage home. Her crew was already rallying around the new arrivals, providing warmth, friendship and assistance in adjusting to their new world. She frowned. This man before her was no different from the others in that respect and yet, somehow, she knew she would have to treat him differently.

"This is some kind of trick."

Janeway gave him a sad smile. Denial had been the first of the emotions shown by the others and after only a few days on board, many were still far from accepting the truth, believing it to be some elaborate game -- or a nightmare that they couldn't seem to awaken from.

Eventually, acceptance would come, and with it would come grief and anger.

-ooOOoo-

With so many arriving on Voyager at once, there had been little time to prepare but many of the crew offered to double up with the new arrivals. The Doctor had agreed it was an ideal situation, realizing it would be better to place them into the care of an existing crew member who could teach them the basic technology that most people took for granted, such as using the sonic showers. Once he was convinced they had grasped the fundamentals and were strong enough, mentally, to cope then they could be given their own quarters; although he knew that could be many months away.

It had not surprised Janeway when Harry Kim offered to take the enigmatic survivor sixty-four who still refused to give his name. Despite some misgivings -- basically because he refused to go beyond the 'denial' stage -- she had agreed, knowing that she could not keep him in Sickbay for the rest of the journey.

Harry was convinced, however, that all the man needed was someone who would not push him, and yet would be there to support him every step of the way.

"Just wish he'd let us know his name." He glanced up from his meal in the mess hall, as the beautiful, slender ex-Borg raised an eyebrow.

"I fail to understand why 'Sixty-four' is unacceptable."

Paris snorted. "Yeah, considering you're Seven."

Harry shook his head. "He was never Borg, Tom. He's human. He had a human name before they put him into that cryopod--"

B'Elanna interrupted, eyes narrowed in query.

"Harry? Why did you take him under your wing? He never talks to you. He just sits there, watching, as if he's looking for a show of weakness. He's unapproachable, distrustful. They should have left him in Sickbay."

"Or put him in the Brig," added Paris wryly.

Kim gave Tom a stony glare, his eyes narrowing in frustration when Seven picked up the bait.

"You believe he is dangerous."

Tom Paris waved his arms expansively. "I don't know. He just... makes me nervous, that's all."

"Because he won't tell you his name? Then why don't we give him a name? K'orak." B'Elanna slapped her hands on the tabletop.

"A Klingon name?" Paris raised one eyebrow in disbelief.

"Alright. James. That's a human name."

"James? Why James? He remind you of somebody called James?"

"Wasn't James your first boyfriend?" Kim asked, remembering the time when she had given them her life story.

"Forget I spoke." B'Elanna pushed back her seat and picked up her tray.

"No, no. Does he look like this James?" Harry shook his head as Tom Paris jumped to his feet and raced off after his wife. "Wait up, B'Elanna."

Harry looked back across the table and into the beautiful blue eyes; his own no longer seeing the metal Borg implants that covered her left temple and encircled the eye socket.

"I suppose you still think 'Sixty-four' is an acceptable name."

"My maternal grandfather was called Michael."

Kim nodded his head and grinned. "Thank you."

-ooOOoo-

The Captain settled down onto the couch in her ready room, a mug of hot coffee in one hand, a datapad in the other. She smiled when Chakotay entered the room at her invitation, his answering smile warming her more than the coffee. She beckoned him to take a seat beside her and waggled the datapad.

"Doctor's report on our sixty-four humans."

"Anything unusual?"

"Only on our number sixty-four."

"The alien DNA."

"Yes."

She rose from her seat and walked over to the window that stretched most of the length of her office, and leaned heavily on the strong transparent material. Her gaze took in the streaks of light flowing passed the ship as they swept along at Warp Two. Somewhere, still many light years away, was 'home' but her thoughts turned to a new mystery.

"The Doctor can't identify the alien DNA." She leaned forward, hand tracing the patterns of stars in the distance that barely moved compared to those that streaked past. "Whatever race mingled its DNA with his has never made contact with the Federation."

"That ship must have drifted for centuries through this quadrant. Perhaps something here?"

She looked back at him, smiling softly.

"Yes... and no." She looked back out of the window, the view never losing its magic. "I can't be certain... but I'm almost convinced he was changed while on Earth... but not by the Colonists."

Chakotay sighed. "Some of the more esoteric historians believe there was another alien race involved in the Silent War. Rebels who aided the human resistance against the Colonists," he shook his head slowly. "But it's never been proved."

"And no race has ever come forward to take the credit." She came back to sit down beside him, leaning back and staring deep into his dark, brown eyes. "Is it possible that they existed? Could he be carrying their DNA? And if so, why?"

-ooOOoo-

'Michael' smiled. If there was one thing he was certain of it was that this man, Harry Kim, did not have a mean bone in his body. If he ever hurt anyone then it was either unintentional or he had a damned good reason. Spending the past few days in his company had made his decision to keep his identity hidden all the harder, and yet, in a Catch-22 way, the longer he remained silent the harder it was to come forward.

At first he had remained silent out of distrust, unwilling to add to the danger of his situation by revealing his name to possible enemies. By the time he had discovered that they were telling him the truth, Alex had a new concern that demanded his silence.

Marita Covarrubias.

The lovely blonde Consortium double agent had lied to the Voyager crew from the very start, giving them a false name and making up a story of alien abduction to disguise the truth behind her presence on board the Colonist vessel. Unlike the other victims of the Colonists, she had earned her place amongst them out of avarice. Her quest for power at any cost had annoyed more than one of those old men in the Consortium. When she stole Dmitri, and became infected with the Black Oil, she had played right into those old men's hands, and they had eventually disposed of her upon the mothership.

In many respects her subterfuge had worked to Alex's advantage, for if she told them who he was then he would have counter-struck and revealed her true identity as a top player against humanity, but he knew the stalemate between them could not last forever. Sooner or later one of them would slip up or discover something that broke this unspoken agreement.

Alex knew that the only way he could determine his future would be to investigate the past. He needed to know how he was viewed in the history books: 'Consortium Assassin' or 'Hero of the Resistance'. He had started out as the former but how many knew that he had become the latter? How many knew that he had 'died' trying to save the human race? Part of his success as leader of the human resistance had come about because of his ability to disguise his true allegiance and infiltrate the Consortium. He had gained access to the higher echelons, his position gaining him information that had sabotaged 'The Plan' on numerous occasions before his position had been compromised.

Fire and Ice. That was how he thought of Marita. He had used her once, before he truly knew her, seducing her to effect his escape from Russia with the boy, Dmitri. On reflection, he could not believe how naive he had been, not realizing that she had been using him in turn, just waiting until she had earned enough of his trust to strike at him. She had taken the boy and paid dearly for her subterfuge, but not before she had contacted the Consortium to betray his position to those old men.

Strangely enough, her devious actions had been the catalyst for his recruitment into the Resistance. Her call had been answered by the Englishman -- the Well-Manicured Man -- but instead of informing the others, that old man had decided to 'bring him in from the cold'.

Alex gazed at his face in the bathroom mirror and frowned, a crease forming over the bridge of his nose. What did any of it matter anyway? The world that had known Alex Krycek was long gone.

And *he* was gone. His lover. Fox William Mulder would have died centuries ago.

Alex forced himself away from that agonizing thought, afraid that once he started on that path he would spiral down into all-consuming grief. To him, it had only been a few days since he held his lover in his arms, feeling the warmth of the strong, lanky frame along the length of his own body as they caressed and kissed in passionate abandon. He swallowed hard and refocused on his reflection in the mirror, banishing the memory to a dark recess in his mind. There was more at stake here than just himself.

He focused back on the danger that was Marita Covarrubias. While he lived, he was a threat to Marita and he would have to be on guard for any potential 'accidents' that might befall him. Unfortunately, 'neutralizing' her was not an option for he doubted that these people would ever understand his actions, or the seriousness of his allegations. They had not seen the depths of depravity to which she would sink in order to gain what she wanted. They had not witnessed her callousness, nor her inhumanity, as she used her United Nations position to locate small populations that would not be missed by the world should they suddenly disappear; sacrificing whole villages in Kazakhstan to experimentation by the Consortium or to become hosts of the Colonists. Neither had they seen her ice blue eyes gleam sadistically, as the Consortium tortured the unfortunate subjects of its Black Oil experiments in Tunguska.

Marita had no such restraints though and he knew that, sooner or later, she would make her move against him, for he sincerely doubted she would be able to remain in such a lowly position for long; her hunger for power was too strong. He knew she would wait for the right opportunity to present itself, and then she would strike, and the crew of this vessel would never know what hit them.

"Are you okay? You looked like you were a million miles away."

"That and a few centuries."

"Michael? You *can* trust us."

Alex smiled wistfully. No matter how far he had lived in the dim and distant past, Alex did not want to have his actions brought out into the light of day. He did not want to stand and watch as disgust and betrayal formed in Harry's eyes when history revealed him to be a monster rather than a hero. For the first time in his life he wished his cover had been fully broken and that his true allegiance to humanity had been shouted out to the whole world, but he'd been good at his job. Perhaps too good.

He deftly changed the subject before Harry could come up with a dozen more reasons why he ought to reveal his identity to these people.

"Will you show me how to use the library computer?"

"Sure."

Harry Kim activated the terminal on the desk and beckoned Alex over. The voice-activated computer responded with a soft, feminine tone, and Alex smiled. Even into the 23rd century, the computer engineers and psychologists were still inclined to believe that humans reacted better to a female rather than male voice. It made him homesick for the gentle voice of Dana Scully, as he imagined her bustling about her laboratory, spouting facts and figures. Of course, he'd heard similar factual monologues fall from full, male lips in a dry monotone, and his heart faltered in sorrow as he thought of the man he would never see -- or hold -- again.

Harry caught his attention, drawing him away from the edge of that deep well of grief. Casting away all pretence, Alex acknowledged that he really didn't care how he was viewed in history for his own sake. What he truly wanted to know was what had happened to his beloved Fox Mulder following their forced separation. Had he found happiness in the arms of another? Or had he gone on alone?

Although part of Alex hated the thought of Mulder finding comfort and love elsewhere, another selfless part of him hoped his lover had not wasted his life in a futile search -- just as Mulder had spent so many years searching for Samantha in vain.

"The computer is fairly intuitive but it still pays to watch how you phrase a request..."

Alex focused back on Harry, and within moments they were deep into discussion on the advancements in computing since the 20th century.

-ooOOoo-

"How's our guest?"

Ensign Kim looked up from his console on the bridge and into his Captain's eyes, knowing exactly whom she meant despite the arrival of sixty-four guests.

"Michael? He's settling in fine. I showed him how to use the library system. He's a quick study--"

"Michael?" Janeway gave an enigmatic smile that had Harry blushing.

"Well, it seemed so impersonal calling him 'Sixty-four'. Seven suggested the name."

Commander Chakotay turned puzzled dark eyes in their direction as he overheard the conversation. He wandered across until he stood close to Harry.

"Was he looking for anything in particular?"

Harry thought about the hour he had spent with Michael last evening, keying searches through the massive data-store so Michael could have a brief history of the Earth since his abduction during the Silent War.

"I don't think so. You think he wants to access information on Voyager?"

"Not necessarily, but I have been wondering why he won't give us his name, and I can come up with only two reasons; amnesia... or something to hide."

Janeway frowned. "And as he isn't suffering from amnesia..?" She raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps we ought to start our own search."

Harry Kim straightened up ready to receive the order, but Janeway knew from his posture that even the thought of covertly 'digging up the dirt' on his roommate did not sit comfortably with him. Instinct told her that she would be best assigning that task to another.

"No, Harry." She turned, smiling as she saw Harry Kim visibly relax. "Mr. Paris? Perhaps you'd care to assist Mr. Tuvok with some research."

-ooOOoo-

His dream that night was filled with the warm presence of his lost lover. Alex could feel the warm arms embracing him, holding him tight as that luscious mouth nibbled and devoured, and sucked and licked at his sensitive flesh. He gasped as sharp teeth bit down on a nipple, then moaned as it was sucked hard and brutally... filling him with exquisite pain and pleasure intermingled. Strong fingers encircled his shaft, gliding tightly down its length then sliding back to the head, a thumb teasing across the slit. The pungency of his heightened sex filled the air as Mulder dipped his head to lick a bead of passion from the sensitive tip, eyelashes fluttering with ecstasy as if this single dewdrop was honeyed nectar.

Alex moaned as the full lips closed around him, engulfing him in the wet heat of Mulder's perfect mouth. He felt firm fingers cup his balls, rolling the delicate contents, squeezing rhythmically as that talented mouth drew the life-essence from his body. Wave after wave of pleasure flowed over him, drowning him in pure sensation. He reached to grasp the silken strands of Mulder's hair, tugging on them, desperate to draw those lips back to his own so he could taste his essence within the wanton mouth.

Confusion filled him when Mulder refused to raise his face, and Alex gasped, eyes opening wide... panicking when he could no longer feel even the ghost of Mulder's presence.

"Lights one quarter."

The room was softly illuminated, revealing the utilitarian quarters that he shared with Harry Kim. On the far side of the room, Harry was stirring, his almond eyes blinking owlishly as he raised himself onto one elbow to look across at Alex.

"You all right?"

Alex blinked a few times and then noticed the stickiness smeared across his belly. His face flushed with embarrassment but he mumbled an, 'I'm fine', knowing that Harry would not be able to see the evidence of his erotic dream in the dimness of the room.

"Just a bad dream. I'm going to... to wash my face then..." Alex paused, realizing that he was rambling and seeing that the tremor in his words was only fueling Harry's concern. "Get some sleep, Harry. I'm fine."

Alex kept his body turned away from Harry as he pulled on a toweling robe and quickly moved into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and ordered the lights up. Taking care not to use too much of the precious water, he splashed a handful over his face and then looked up, straight into the reflection cast back from the mirror. Alex dragged a hand through his hair and shuddered at the pale apparition, the shock of his dark hair only serving to emphasize the pallor of his ivory flesh. He concentrated for a moment, his features rippling as he ordered them into a new configuration, tears filling his eyes as he gazed upon a face he knew as well as he knew his own. Alex reached out and touched the cold surface of the mirror, trailing his fingers over the image of the plump lower lip. He drew the finger back to touch living flesh but it didn't feel right, and it didn't send the familiar tingling of desire racing through him as if he was touching his lover -- his Mulder -- while gazing into a mirror. He looked into the green eyes staring back at him and sobbed harshly as the illusion was shattered into a million pieces. He could change his features; mold them to another's in every aspect... except for the eyes. His own pain-filled, sleep-deprived green eyes stared back at him from where he had almost convinced himself he might find the chameleon ones of his lover.

The sound of bare feet padding across the room beyond pulled him back from the edge and he let Mulder's features melt away, merging swiftly into his own until he could see them no longer.

"You okay? Thought I heard you call out."

Alex closed his eyes and then dredged up a smile from somewhere deep inside and sent it to Harry through his reflection.

"Just a little over-spill from a dream."

"Good or bad?"

Alex stared into Harry's dark eyes, easily reading the genuine caring in the sweet face.

"Good... too good."

Harry's eyes dropped in bittersweet remembrance of his own dreams.

"Yeah. They were always the worst."

Alex blinked, suddenly aware that Harry truly understood his loss even if he was not aware of exactly what Alex had lost. He could see it in the faraway look, in the slight glistening of tears at the back of those dark eyes. He recalled how the people on board had been torn away from their loved ones and hurtled a lifetime's journey away from home. Harry had told him how they had spent the first few years totally cut off from the Federation. Then he remembered how those eyes had misted in happiness when he recalled the brilliance of an man called Reginald Barclay who had figured out a way to bounce communication signals from one side of the galaxy to the other -- or specifically, to them -- using certain star types. The system was temperamental at best but it had allowed the crew, and the loved ones left behind within the Federation, to reach out to each other across the light years.

Alex turned away, hating the bitterness that filled him. He would need a ouija board to reach the loved one that he had been forced to leave behind.

-ooOOoo-

"Has Tuvok made any progress?"

Janeway laughed gently in answer to Chakotay's question, and then shook her head, waving a hand when he frowned uneasily. She waited until Chakotay had taken a seat in her Ready Room before letting him in on the joke.

"Far from being a huge secret, it appears there is too much information. Tuvok's initial search found references spanning over five thousand years, though 99 percent covers a sixty year period from the early 1950s into the 21st century." She sighed, cupping her chin in one hand as she leaned forward. "It seems our discovery of the Colonist ship has unlocked hidden data: surveillance reports, experimentation, research papers, clandestine agendas... and names that are little more than descriptions: Well-Manicured Man, Cigarette-Smoking Man, First Elder." She sighed. "And, of course, our FBI Agent Fox William Mulder and his partner Dr. Dana Katherine Scully."

"Surveillance reports?"

"Mainly audio files. Some poor quality video," she said, waving her hand in dismissal. "It would take months, maybe years, to sift through all the information."

Chakotay frowned as something came to mind.

"When I first joined the Maquis there was a series of incidents that couldn't be put down to bad luck. Too coincidental." He paused, seeing that he had her attention. "We had a traitor in our midst."

Chakotay gave a soft deprecating laugh as he realized how strange that must sound considering he had come on board Voyager with two traitors on his very crew. He had considered Tuvok to be his right-hand until learning that he was, in fact, Janeway's right hand man sent in by the Federation to spy on the Maquis. And then there was Seska, his lover, who turned out to be a Cardassian spy.

"Please, go on."

Chakotay accepted the compassion in her voice and demeanor. They had been friends and comrades-in-arms too long for her to have any feelings that even remotely resembled pity.

"We ran a voice modulation program against some strange communications and compared it to existing Maquis members -- looking for patterns."

Janeway sat upright. "We wouldn't even need a complicated modulation program. We have Michael's voiceprint on record."

Chakotay smiled as Janeway leapt to her feet, already calling Tuvok to her Ready Room.

-ooOOoo-

 _You must be losing it, Mulder. I can beat you with one hand.  
_  
 _Isn't that how you like to beat yourself..._ an audible click was heard on the tape ... _If those are my last words I can do better._

Janeway listened in fascination as the voice she recognized as Michael's whispered details of the Colonization plan. On the audio track, Mulder began to laugh in disbelief.

 _I thought you were serious._

More softly spoken words filled the room, listened to carefully by the four Starfleet officers.

 _...one law: Fight or Die and one rule: Resist... or Serve._

The eloquent words chilled Janeway to the core of her being. This was where it had all begun, the truth revealed, yet that truth was so unimaginable that it was still hard to believe even centuries later.

 _Krycek, you're a murderer, a liar and a coward. Just because you stick a gun in my chest I'm supposed to believe you're my friend?_

"Krycek?"

The recording paused automatically as the computer registered Janeway's voice. She turned to Tuvok questioningly.

"Alex Krycek. One time Consortium agent, then Free agent... then Resistance fighter. I believe this recording must have taken place during his transition from Free agent to the Resistance. Records show that he later became one of the leaders of the Human Resistance."

Janeway nodded her head, both amazed by what they had discovered and curious to know where the rest of this recorded conversation would lead. The recording continued and she listened in silence.

Chakotay frowned. "What did he say at the end? It wasn't English."

Paris gave a wry grin. "He spoke in Russian. It loosely translates as 'Good luck to you, my comrade'... or perhaps even 'friend' though I guess that's unlikely given the circumstances--"

Janeway held up her hand to curtail any more supposition. She looked away, staring ahead though her thoughts were directed inwards. "A murderer, a liar and a coward."

Her words were soft; more of an internal question but sharp Vulcan hearing caught them. Tuvok raised an eyebrow.

"Forensic evidence could link Alex Krycek to four murders, and yet even this evidence was considered circumstantial. A liar? At the time what he said to Agent Mulder must have seemed fantastical, and yet it was the truth. A coward? Alex Krycek was listed as 'dead' following a mission to infiltrate a Colonist transport ship. He completed his task, which was to deliver, via electronic means, the chemical formula and preparation method for a bio-toxin; the same bio-toxin that poisoned the Earth against the Colonists, but he never returned. Despite his unfortunate beginnings, he *is* recognized as one of the major players in bringing about the defeat of the Colonists - and a hero of the Resistance."

Janeway sighed. "Then why the refusal to reveal his identity."

Chakotay gave a small smile, remembering his own recent past. "Perhaps he was afraid his part in the Resistance was unknown, that he had gone down in history as a Consortium assassin, and a traitor to Earth."

Tuvok raised his eyebrow again as his one concession to the human need for a physical reaction via body language.

"That is quite possible. The nature of his involvement with the Resistance was clandestine. He held a position of some authority within the Consortium following the death of the Well-Manicured Man, his patron and, quite possibly, the man who sent him to this recorded meeting with Agent Mulder. It was a position he would have had to carefully uphold if he was to be of use to the Resistance."

"Much as you infiltrated the Maquis."

Tuvok raised both eyebrows, acutely aware that Chakotay had never fully come to terms with his betrayal even though he accepted the role Tuvok played. Tuvok had played the Maquis rebel to perfection, gaining the trust of his companions who never guessed he was feeding all the information to Starfleet.

"You are correct."

"So what do we do with this information?"

"We wait. Alex Krycek has a reason for withholding his identity..." Janeway raised a hand to forestall her First Officer. "...which may, or may not be linked to his concern over how his past actions are viewed. I don't want to force his hand in case there is some other reason for his silence... but there's no reason why we shouldn't try a little prompting."

Janeway faced her junior officer and smiled into his bright blue eyes.

"Mr. Paris, perhaps you could engage Michael in conversation and let it slip that history knows Alexei Krycek was considered one of the 'good guys'."

-ooOOoo-

Tom Paris looked around the table, smiling secretively when he noticed that Harry, B'Elanna, Seven and Neelix were hanging on his every word. He glanced, covertly, towards Michael. With his prompting, Harry Kim had invited Michael to join them when Tom saw him arrive and move to take a seat alone near the back of the room. However, Michael seemed uneasy and possibly even quieter than usual, merely picking at the colorful meal set in front of him. However, Tom felt that was hardly surprising considering the blandness of the meal and the subject of the conversation.

Without missing a beat he continued on.

"It's amazing... the stuff of legends. Consortium agents working in collusion with the Resistance, living on the edge, knowing that one slip could lead to an early grave. Others, like Fox Mulder working in the open, meeting disbelief and obstruction at every turn, avoiding death only because of the protection given by the renegade Consortium agents. The bad guys had no proper names: The Cigarette-Smoking Man, the First Elder, the Bounty Hunter --- who was actually an alien, and most probably a Colonist. The good guys were Mulder, his partner Scully... and a Consortium rebel, Alex Krycek."

Tom made a huge effort not to look at Michael this time, knowing that the man was smart and would smell a rat. He turned his attention to the others.

"I was thinking of setting up a program on the holodeck. Good Guys versus Bad Guys... saving the planet kind of stuff." Tom frowned. "If you could have been there, who would you like to have been?"

It was a seemingly innocuous question that Neelix pondered on and responded to first.

"I would have been Agent Mulder. The hero fighting for the future of the human race."

Tom grinned at Neelix as the Talaxian started to shadow box, and then he glanced at Harry. Although Janeway had given him permission to debrief Harry on Michael's true identity, he had decided not to let Harry in on the Captain's plan right away, needing a spontaneous reaction from his eager young friend.

"Harry?"

"I don't know." Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. "But if this was a holodeck novel I'd like to have been Krycek... though, in reality, it must have been like... wielding a double-edged sword. Far easier to be Mulder. Everyone knew whose side he was on, he didn't have to hide his beliefs, or skulk around in dark corridors, forever looking over his shoulder and expecting to be unmasked at every turn." Harry laughed. "I wouldn't have survived a month."

"Yeah, as it was, Krycek was killed... presumably." Tom checked, surreptitiously to ensure that Michael was still listening in before he continued. "He disappeared while passing important data to the Resistance. By all accounts it came as a hard blow to Mulder... they must have been good friends... but the data saved the planet."

Tom glanced around at the suddenly serious faces, seeing a shadow of grief pass across Michael's green eyes. He had hated that part of this subterfuge most of all, knowing that, for Michael, the pain of his loss of friends and loved ones must still be an open wound. He decided to lighten the mood.

"Seven could be Dana Scully."

"Why?" One perfectly sculptured eyebrow rose in puzzlement.

"You're both hard scientist types, believing science has the answer to all questions."

"It has."

"See what I mean?" He could see that Michael had the look of someone about to make his escape and he made a last ditch attempt to bring him into the conversation. "What about you, Michael? Who would you be?"

He looked on in hidden dismay as Alex gave a tight smile and stood, picking up the tray holding the meal he had barely touched. He'd realized the moment the words came out of his mouth that they were the wrong ones to say to a man who would still be grieving for the past that had been ripped away from him. Tom tried not to show his frustration as Michael answered Harry's unspoken question.

"My duty post starts in ten minutes." He dredged up a brighter smile for Harry. "I'll see you later."

Tom noticed B'Elanna watching Michael walk away, and he could see by her body language that she was annoyed, and he knew why. Silently, he wished he had asked permission from the Captain to let her in on Michael's identity too, but Janeway felt that the fewer people who knew, the better, just in case Michael had a different reason for being unwilling to reveal his identity to them. He noticed that B'Elanna waited until Michael was out of earshot, and then she rounded on Tom.

"That was a little insensitive."

"Yeah, I only asked--"

"Not him... you. I doubt he wanted a reminder of what he lost. I'm sure he'd like to still be there as himself."

B'Elanna pushed away from the table and strode off leaving behind a contrite Tom Paris. He pondered her words, wondering how true they might be. Would Alex Krycek still like to *be* Alex Krycek back in the twenty-first century? Or had he played out that game and been relieved to find he had been transported many light years and centuries from home and the dangerous game he had played. Tom swallowed hard, recalling the momentary flash of grief in the green eyes when he mentioned Fox Mulder, and he began to wonder if they had been more than just colleagues and friends.

He sighed as the others excused themselves, one by one, his mind already turning over all the ways he might search the data-store for more personal information on Mulder and Krycek. Taking a deep breath, he pushed away from the table, his tray in hand.

"Least I got the Captain's message across," he whispered softly as he made his way across the mess to dispose of his tray.

-ooOOoo-

Janeway could feel the buzz of excitement filling Voyager as the latest communication data package from the Federation reached the ship. Communications between Voyager and Starfleet were still sporadic, relying on the alignment of stars and singularities upon which they could bounce off the signal. Still, even these intermittent messages from home, sometimes months apart, were infinitely better than the silence of the dark years that preceded Reginald Barclay's incredible invention. It was a shame that, this time, most of the message stream back to the Alpha quadrant would have to be taken up with official business but, for once, good fortune was shining on them and there would be another two chances for contact only a few days apart.

Janeway leaned forward as the image on the screen in her quarters crackled with galactic static before the lines began to form order from chaos, coalescing into the features of Admiral Paris.

"Admiral. Good to see you again."

"Katherine."

His smile was warm, his blue eyes so reminiscent of the son who had found himself lost with her on Voyager all those years ago.

"I'm relaying information on a ship we came across two weeks back. A Colonist ship." She saw the Admiral's lips fall apart in surprise, his brow furrowing. "As you will see from the reports, circumstances required different action from standing orders. And I stand by my decision."

The Admiral nodded, well aware that Janeway was forewarning him that she had disobeyed a directive but it would not be the first time. So far, all of her decisions had been made under extenuating circumstances and, on reflection, were the best choices she could have made being so far from home and out of contact with the Federation. Janeway noticed that he looked away briefly as a muted voice sounded nearby. He looked back at her.

"I will read the reports... and we will attempt to discuss this in four days. For now, though, time is up. There should be a lot of personal communications this time around from this end, and there will be a greater opportunity for your people to return messages in four days."

The picture began to jump and crackle, and Janeway could not make out his final words before the signal was lost completely. She leaned in, cupping her chin in her hand and stared at the static, mesmerized by the vibrant colors that flashed from deep within the console. Meanwhile, her thoughts churned onwards to how her superiors would react when they learned of the risk she had taken -- but it had been worth it. She jumped at the sound of Chakotay clearing his throat behind her.

"Not my choice as a way to induce meditation but..." He let the words hang, a smile playing about his soft lips and putting a teasing glint into his dark brown eyes.

She shook her head and grinned in response.

"You may be Captain of this ship in four days time."

"Can't say it wouldn't be an honor but I doubt they will issue more than a reprimand."

He obeyed her slight wave of hand and took a seat close by, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. It always amazed her how lucky she had been to be gifted with his presence on board Voyager. He had started out as her quarry; a member of the Maquis fighting the Cardassians after the Federation handed back the corridor of space between the Cardassian Empire and the Federation. His home planet lay in that corridor, and his people had been told they had to leave their world... or die. They had chosen to stay and fight. When his ship disappeared within the Badlands after a run-in with a Cardassian ship, she had been sent out on her first mission as Captain of the newly built Voyager to find him. Of course, she'd had an ulterior motive for being the one to go on the hunt, as the Maquis ship had disappeared with Janeway's most trusted officer and friend on board -- Tuvok.

When they both found themselves trapped on the other side of the Delta Quadrant, seventy years from home, Chakotay had sacrificed his ship to save them all. He and the rest of his Maquis rebels had become members of Voyager's crew and, with a pragmatism that was part of his Indian heritage, he had accepted the role of First Officer rather than attempt to takeover Voyager, leaving Janeway in command.

Over the past six years he had become a close friend, as well someone she could rely upon and respect in his capacity of First Officer.

"We are on our own out here, for the most part, and they have to accept that we have to make our own best judgment calls from time to time," he spoke softly, wanting to reassure her that he had every confidence in the decisions they had made. "When I walk around this ship and see sixty-four new people, and the pleasure on the faces of our existing crew members as they help our newcomers to adjust, then I know... absolutely... that we did the right thing." He smiled. "And *they* will know this too."

She knew he meant the upper echelons of Starfleet but reflected that the same words applied to everyone on board too. She knew of no one on the crew who begrudged the rescue of these sixty-four individuals; humans who had been as lost and as far from home as they themselves.

"Talking of sixty-four, did Tom drop any hints to our *number sixty-four*?"

"In the mess hall, just before the start of the day shift."

"And?"

Chakotay shrugged. "We will just have to wait and see."

-ooOOoo-

 **Starfleet Headquarters  
San Francisco, Earth**

Admiral Paris sat back in his chair and read Janeway's summary of her actions taken on discovering the derelict Colonist vessel and its sixty-four entombed but still living humans. He touched the screen and watched as the images of those revived people flashed across too quickly to grasp a single face but slow enough to make him aware that it had been worth the risk taken. He returned to the report and noticed that Janeway had flagged a particular entry. He turned to it and stared at the handsome, dark-haired human, the last of those they had saved before obliterating the Colonist vessel.

He called in his personal aide and requested all the information they had on an Alex Krycek. His aide commenced the search immediately, and somewhere, deep in the bowels of the computer, a program stirred in response to this trigger and started fulfilling the obligations of both its creator and all those highly skilled, secretive programmers who had come after him. A single message stirred other older programs into life with a single command reminiscent of a Frank Herbert 'Dune' novel: The Sleeper must awaken.

-ooOOoo-

 **Cryogenics Facility  
Ten miles Outside Ft. Worth, Texas**

Dr. Kevin Mason stretched, muscles crackling from prolonged inactivity. He grabbed the datapad from the desk and began checking the information against the bank of equipment once more. All was the same as usual. Nothing stirred. He walked along the line of cryo-chambers, intermittently swiping at the faceplates to make a visual inspection of the occupant for his own benefit. It was not that he didn't trust the computers but the center could not afford to have another incident like the one they had eighty-three years ago when they lost a bank of chambers through a faulty piece of coding. Four humans that had been in stasis had died before a visual inspection made the technicians realize something was amiss.

Mason stopped when he reached the chamber recessed into the deepest corner of the room, always feeling reverent when he gazed upon its occupant. More than three hundred years had passed for this one; the centuries disappearing in dreamless sleep. In all that time, the occupant had been touched four times; on each occasion it was only to transfer him to a newer, more technologically advanced unit as fear grew for the reliability of his ancient one.

Mason stepped back with a sigh and turned away but he stopped as a soft beep reached his hearing. He looked back, a puzzled frown crinkling his brow as a red indicator light flickered.

"Damn."

The first word that went through his head was 'malfunction' and he swore in response, quickly racing back to the computer console. He looked at the readings, watching in increasing horror as the revival program kicked in, sending streams of data across the screen.

"Fuck." Mason slapped his communicator badge on his chest. "Emergency. Chamber One-oh-one-three."

Technicians poured into the room, eyes wide with concern as Mason began to interface with the computer. The program deterred every attempt he made, and he bit hard into his lower lip, unconsciously drawing blood as he fought to regain control and close down the revival process. A hand fell upon his shoulder and he looked up into the deeply focused face of the establishment's director and owner.

"I can't break in. It won't--"

The Director pulled Mason aside and took his seat, sending requests for information in a series of strange keystrokes. Mason looked on, open-mouthed, as the program responded, displaying the highly confidential logo of Starfleet before opening the file. A grin split the Director's face from ear to ear and he thumped his clenched fist down onto the console with a hissed cry of triumph. He turned to the others present; eyes alight with wonder and pleasure.

"Let's get ready to receive a long overdue guest."

-ooOOoo-

There was a coolness of fresh air breezing along the length of his body, following the path of a soft washcloth. It stroked over his chest, tickling along the rib cage and sending shivers of almost pleasure as it glided across his abdomen. He heard the sound of the cloth being rinsed; the gentle tinkling of water being squeezed into a miniature waterfall that cascaded into a metallic bowl. Then the cloth returned to smooth across his thighs, and then slide downward to tease at his heavy sac before smoothing along the length of his stirring shaft.

Mulder groaned in pleasure, imagining the strong, agile fingers of his lover caressing him.

"Alex."

He whispered the name as images of his green-eyed, dark-haired lover hovered over his senses. He could see the glint of devilment in those eyes, darkened with lust until the Baltic green hung like a corona around the blackness of an eclipse. The sinfully long and dark lashes would flutter, leaving him with snapshots of those desire-filled eyes. He could see the firm lips pout then part softly, a pink tongue tip slipping out to tease along the flushed lips leaving a glistening path behind that Mulder loved to follow with his own kisses. High cheekbones, narrow chin and elfin ears... elfin... delicate and yet possessing a hidden strength coiled in solid, rippling muscle. Smooth, silken flesh; ivory or gold depending on where it had been kissed by the sun. And hair so dark at first sight but, like its owner, hiding a myriad of colors from deepest ebony to the richest mahogany... and just a few strands of gray and silver at the sides that merely added distinction to his fine list of features.

A warm sheet was drawn over his cleansed lower half, falling softly around his waist. Mulder smiled and stretched, luxuriating in the flow of the warm washcloth along his arms as he allowed his desire for his lover to fill him.

The gentle ministrations ceased but Mulder floated on in his warm, comfortable world where Alex settled down alongside him, pressing his warm body close as he whispered sweet endearments and sexy commands. Ghosts of those longed-for hands smoothed across his skin, skimming over the raised nub of a sensitive nipple and drawing another moan from Mulder. He imagined the hand dipping lower, stroking across his quivering stomach muscles to encircle his hard shaft. The flexible thumb would stroke over the tip, smearing the seeping evidence of his arousal over the smooth head.

"Mulder."

Mulder frowned at the deep timbre of the voice close to his ear.

"Fox William Mulder."

His frown deepened as the ghostly fingers faded, leaving his body hard and aching. His heavy eyelids refused to open and he sighed as the warm washcloth returned to ease the stickiness gluing the lashes, batting the lashes as he tried to make sense of the images surrounding him. The lights were dim, for that he was grateful, but it meant he had no clear vision beyond the blob of pink poised above his face. He forced himself to focus on the pink blob, his frown growing as it sharpened into unfamiliar features.

"Where..?"

Mulder croaked, stunned by the dryness of his mouth and the difficulty he had wrapping his tongue around the syllables. He swallowed hard, and then sipped as a straw was poked into the side of his mouth, filling his mouth with sweet, pure water.

"I know you have questions and they will be answered once you have rested. You need a little time to recover. You've been asleep for a long, long time."

"Asssslleeep?"

Mulder felt a coolness of metal against his throat and heard a soft hiss before the dim world faded completely from view, spiraling him back down into the darkness of dreamless sleep.

-ooOOoo-

 **USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

From the corner of his eye, Alex watched as several others from the Colonist ship worked steadily at the small tasks they had been given. He knew, just by looking at the technology around him, that there was a lot they all had to learn before they could become less of a burden on the Voyager crew. He was also aware that some of the people revived would never become particularly valuable members, and yet every single one of them was valued nonetheless. The Voyager crew had accepted these misplaced people with open arms and kind hearts, fully accepting of the additional strain it put on them and the ship's resources.

His own task today was little more than that of a cleaner, working through the Jefferies tubes removing any build-up of static. Yesterday he assisted in cleaning the warp manifolds. These were thankless tasks requiring very little intelligence, as the technology did most of the thinking for them, and Alex was grateful that they were only expected to spend two hours a day on them. The rest of the time was spent in the classroom, learning all about the new galaxy they had woken up into.

It was hard to believe that so much had changed... that Earth had rushed from the Silent War into a Eugenics War that had left the world devastated. He frowned, recalling the names of some of the scientists who had been playing with the human genome after the amazing discovery of that alien craft off the coast of Africa. They had stolen some of the material from Dana Scully having led her to believe that her work had been destroyed. Their work gladdened and saddened him at the same time. There had been so much potential in that information to cure genetically induced conditions such as hemophilia and Down's Syndrome, and to reduce the effects of cancer, possibly even cure cancer by restoring the body's original blueprint to eradicate the cancerous cells.

Instead, he recalled seeing laboratories filled with clones slowly growing in their fish tank vats under the control of the Colonists as they sought to make a human hybrid, a super soldier, by combining Colonist and human DNA. However, the human DNA was far stronger than even the Colonists had considered, driven by a survival instinct in a -- previously believed -- unused portion of the human brain. The only way they could restructure the host into a hybrid controlled by the Colonist's survival imperative, was to kill the human host first.

Even without the knowledge brought to them by the African ship, there had been other scientists who had been financed by the Consortium to explore the genetics of mankind with a view to finding a way to make humans impervious to the Black Oiliens. Others had been researching the reactivation of the human genetic blueprint, testing out their theories by cruelly subjecting their helpless victims to unnecessary amputations where limbs were surgically removed before the start of the experiments. In all of those cases, Alex had never seen a perfect regrowth, often witnessing a misshapen mess sprouting from the severed limb instead. Once the experiment had been deemed a failure, the misshapen limb would be amputated higher up the body and the tests started all other again until there was nothing left to amputate.

Then they disposed of those unfortunate victims and brought in new ones.

Alex closed his eyes, hoping to block out the memory of the dozens of men and women lying in one laboratory. They were torsos without limbs, or torsos with malformed limb regrowth. All had been glassy eyed with shock, kept sedated for the most part, otherwise they would have been screaming at the cruelty they had been subjected to. He had hated the sight but had been forced to stand by and leave them to their fate rather than betray his hand. He gave a wry grin... what had been that saying?

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few... or the one.

Mulder would not have been able to stand by, or walk away. He would have felt compelled to do something to save them... and he would have failed, with his failure diminishing further any remaining hope for the rest of humanity. Alex knew that this was why he had been chosen to lead the resistance rather than Mulder. Just like the Englishman, he had the strength of will to stay true to the cause no matter the personal sacrifice he might have to make both mentally and physically.

He glanced down at his left arm, knowing that he had been the recipient of far greater luck than the unfortunate people in those terrifying experiments. The key to unlocking the genetic blueprint for regrowing his arm had come from the Rebel aliens. They had also removed the implants he carried at the same time, ones that must have been inserted when the Oilien from the Piper Maru had infected him. There had been a price to pay but, in truth, he knew he had come out with the best of the deal. He knew he was no longer fully human and so he was not surprised when the Doctor had remarked upon this too. What had surprised him, though, was that there was no record of the Rebel alien race in Voyager's data store, which meant they had never remained in contact with Earth after assisting the Resistance in driving the Colonists away.

The thought humbled him, as he had never trusted the Rebels, always wondering when they would reveal an ulterior motive beyond the private war they fought against the Colonists. His acceptance of their aid had always been overshadowed by a belief that they would drive away the Colonists only to proceed with their own plans for world domination. Instead, they had left as quietly as they had arrived, without revealing who or what they were.

There was another thought that niggled at the back of his mind, and he brought it forward so he could mull it over once more. He had always suspected that they were, in fact, of the same species as the Colonists -- a rebel faction perhaps. But how could that be true if the Federation had Colonist DNA on file and yet could not identify the alien DNA combined with his own? It made no sense to him... but then, little of it had ever made any sense.

Even the situation he found he was in now made no sense.

Alex sighed softly. It had taken a few days for him to realize that the terrible nightmare that had followed him back from the darkness of the Colonist ship was reality. Spender's people had caught him, and he vividly recalled those final, desperate minutes where he prayed he had been successful. He had fought them, tooth and nail, to the very edge of darkness, as they forced him into one of the host chambers on board the mothership.

The goons had followed the procedures in all ways *except* for injecting the sedating drug. They had prepared him as if he was to become a host for a Colonist and yet Spender had known he was resistant to the Colonist retrovirus. Spender had known that it could not overcome his body's defenses and so the retrovirus would not survive long enough to trigger the Colonist genetic blueprint held within itself.

Had Spender merely wanted him -- on ice -- until he could decide what to do with him? Had Spender ever intended for the Colonist ship to leave Earth with him still on board?

That didn't seem likely to Alex as he recalled the obsession that cancerous old man had for him, wanting to own him, to possess him in every sense of the word. He'd seen the gleam in those rheumy blue eyes as his goons forced him into the chamber, seen the lust burning in those eyes as he was partially stripped, his body exposed to Spender's sight before the chamber was sealed tight.

Some event had triggered the departure of the mothership before Spender could retrieve him. From the information he had already gleaned from the history data- store that must have been the successful distribution of the bio-toxin.

When he became aware of his surroundings he'd wondered, at first, if the sight that met him was some cruel means by Spender's people to exploit him, hoping to disorientate him by the sudden loss of everything -- and everyone -- he had ever known except for Marita. However, after spending a few days on board Voyager, any lingering sense of denial had been swept away, for there was no way Spender's people could set up such an elaborate hoax. He knew too much about the Consortium, and about what they were capable of, to be taken in for too long by an illusion. After two weeks, the pragmatist within him had accepted that Janeway had told him the truth, that he was light years and, more importantly, three centuries away from the man he loved, with no way of ever getting back to Mulder -- except through death. That option danced on the edge of his mind but two things prevented him from taking that easy option. First, he felt a continuing duty to protect these people from Marita Covarrubias and, secondly, he had this strangest belief that Mulder was still out there... somewhere... waiting for him just as he had promised.

Still, upon waking each day, he wondered if this *was* all real, or if he was trapped in some never-ending nightmare of Spender's making.

He grinned wryly at himself.

Or maybe *that* was just wishful thinking, for if he *was* trapped in a nightmare then there was always the chance that Mulder would find him and awaken him. He sighed heavily as he aimed the particle stream at the static build-up registering on the gauge he held. Silently, he wished he *could* wake up and find he was lying in bed with his lover tucked up firmly behind him, long limbs wrapped around his own as he felt the soft breath of his sleeping lover upon the nape of his neck.

His thoughts traveled back to those final hours before he boarded the Colonist mothership.

-ooOOoo-

 **More Than 340 Years Ago  
Resistance Headquarters  
Earth**

Mulder tried everything within his power to persuade him not to take the assignment but Alex knew that the future of the human race had come down to this last desperate act. The information they needed to build a bio-toxin was on board the Colonist mothership, and they had only one chance to get at it, striking before the Consortium and Colonist became aware that the Resistance had, finally, discovered the third mothership's location.

The first ship had been buried beneath the ice in Antarctica and the second beneath the hot sands of the Sahara Desert in Tunisia. It had come as a shock to discover that there was a third mothership, and this one had found its hiding place beneath the ocean waves off the coast of Hawaii's smallest island. A lava tube had been sealed off from the active vent of a volcano many decades earlier, and its newly constructed entrance led deep below the surface of the water, connecting with the mothership seamlessly. The tourist traffic to and from the island had, very effectively, hidden both Consortium and Colonist activity in the area.

It was the Lone Gunmen who had first spotted the strange anomaly, their suspicious natures wondering why there had been a sudden increase in the number of cargo boats arriving at the small port on the far side of the island. The figures didn't tally with the needs of the islanders, even taking into account the increased tourist trade during the past few months. Resistance operatives were sent to watch and, eventually, one caught sight of a familiar smoking figure... Spender.

Information gleaned from other operatives within the Consortium had revealed the discovery of a bio-toxin that could make humans unusable as hosts. The information had been erased from all databanks for fear of being extracted by Resistance hackers, and taken into the almost impregnable Colonist ship.

"I don't see why you have to be the one to go."

"No one else can get past the sentries, and few among us have full immunity from the retrovirus. I have the means, and I have the ability to hack into their databanks to extract the information--"

"So have I, Alex."

"No, Mulder... you don't. It's not going to be like sneaking on board the Antarctic mothership. They were unprepared then, but they're not taking any chances any more. I have morphing abilities that will get me past the human sentries, and any early hatchlings I stumble across will scent the alien DNA inside me... and will leave me alone." Alex shook his head slowly and gave Mulder a wry grin. "Can't say the same for you... those creatures would tear apart any human they came across. It *has* to be me."

Mulder changed tactics. "You're the leader of the Resistance, Alex. Without you--"

"The Resistance will go on... with you in control."

"No. *He* was right. I don't have the hard streak necessary to make certain decisions, to say who will live and who will die."

Alex stepped right up to Mulder, almost nose to nose, reaching out to cup his face in both hands. "I know," he responded softly. "But you'll have to find it in you if it comes to it. For all of us... or game's over for the human race."

He closed the remaining distance between them, lips brushing over Mulder's lightly before he pulled back. Their eyes locked and Alex noticed how gray Mulder's became when he was afraid. Chameleon eyes. That's what he called them: their colors forever changing depending on Mulder's mood or surroundings.

"It has to be me, Fox," he whispered softly, voice low but determined. "You know that."

Alex saw unwilling acceptance and sorrow add a deepening blue and gold to the gray, and then those eyes were hidden as eyelids closed over them. Mulder's voice was low and gravelly, hoarsened by the truth he could no longer deny.

"I know." He opened eyes that had hardened with acceptance of what was to be. "When?"

"Two hours."

"Then you'd best prepare--"

"It's all in place, Mulder. *Pick up* is in two hours."

Mulder frowned, his lips parted in confusion and then his eyes widened in realization.

"You'd already decided before--"

Accusation and anger was filling the void left by sorrow but Alex didn't want to spend these last two hours fighting with Mulder. He pulled Mulder to him roughly, and kissed him hard, grinding his groin against his lover's even as he bruised the full lips. Eventually, Mulder's mouth softened, yielding to the demanding kiss. Hands raked through Alex's hair, dragging his head back as Mulder turned the tables and made his own demands, tongue thrusting inside his mouth, claiming Alex with an arrogance that he would allow from no other. Mulder forced him back towards the bed, pulling at his T-shirt, tugging it from his pants and pushing his hands beneath the soft material. He smoothed his palms over Alex's back, igniting every nerve ending in passing. The back of Alex's knees hit the bed and he fell, gasping into Mulder's possessive mouth as his lover's weight came down upon him.

Dragging one hand free, Mulder insinuated it between their close-pressed bodies, busily applying fingers to the task of opening Alex's pants. Alex moaned appreciatively as those warm fingers wrapped around his engorged shaft, slowly sliding along the length of him and brushing with delicious pressure over the sensitive head.

He smoothed his own hands down Mulder's flanks, letting them settle on the swell of firm, denim-covered asscheeks. He wanted to pull Mulder tightly against him, wanted to trap that busy hand hard against his groin but the sensations rolling through him were far too good to stop. He wanted more... he wanted it all. He wanted to feel the dizzying sensations wash over him as his body succumbed to the ultimate pleasure created by that wonderful hand.

Mulder stopped those delicious actions abruptly and pulled back, his mouth a grim line, his eyes closed tightly. He dropped back onto the bed, one leg partially lying across Alex, his head cupped in the palm of one hand. When he opened his eyes, Alex saw that they were a swirling mass of color, wide, and darkened with love, lust, anger and fear. He rose up onto his elbow and looked down into Alex's face.

"Damn you, Alex."

Mulder's voice, rough with emotion, caught on the simple words of damnation that should have opened a chasm between them but merely served to draw them back into each other's hard embrace. Alex felt his own eyes burning upon seeing the unshed tears glistening in Mulder's eyes, and he closed his eyes, holding Mulder tightly as if he would never let him go.

Why was this time so different?

They had both taken dangerous assignments before today, had both walked the razor's edge for the sake of humanity. Yet there had never been this intensity before, this sense of foreboding, and this overwhelming fear that their luck would run out this time.

It was an eventuality Alex had always been prepared for; ensuring the reins of leadership were ready to be picked up by another, for there was far more at stake here than just the two of them. Even now Dana Scully and her team of scientists were standing by, waiting for the information he would attempt to provide for them so that they could begin synthesizing the bio-toxin. And there were six billion human beings that were, unknowingly, relying on the Resistance to keep them safe from the Colonist invaders.

The needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few... outweighing his needs and Mulder's, just as they always *had*, even right from the very beginning.

He was still amazed at how he had managed to keep his identity as a member of the Resistance from Spender over these past years. If he did get captured then Alex would pretend he was acting alone, as a mercenary, intending to sell the formula back to the highest bidder. It had worked once, though he'd paid for his subterfuge with a month spent in a Tunisian prison before Hamed Nouira, their chief of Security within the Resistance, worked out a means of getting him out of there without compromising either them or the Resistance.

But would Spender be foolish enough to believe that same lie again?

That seemed highly improbable... and if Spender was to learn of his high ranking within the Resistance then it could have serious repercussions. But there was no choice. No other could take his place on this mission. No other had all the right ingredients within them that would bring a successful outcome to this mission.

Never had his role been more important in this fight for the future, and he thought that, quite possibly, this might be the reason for his and Mulder's fear. There was so much at stake with the very future of the human race hanging in the balance... like Damocles' sword, held by a single silken thread just above their heads

However, Alex had no intention of waiting for it to fall. Instead he was going to reach up and grasp it, wielding that sword for the lives of the six billion. But it was a double-edged sword, cutting both ways for he knew that, by wielding it, he would be revealing his true allegiance... and Spender would not take such an ultimate 'betrayal' lightly from the man he had once called his lover and protégé.

Mulder seemed to hold him forever and yet, when they parted it was still not long enough. His hand was shaking as he reached back to Alex to stroke along a cheek with the back of his fingers; lightly grazing the flesh and sending flashes of renewed passion searing through Alex. Then Mulder leaned in and pressed his lips against Alex's in a butterfly caress. His breathing was harsh and ragged, totally at odds with the gentleness of his touch. He leaned in again, increasing the contact, nibbling at Alex's lips, anointing his nose with soft kisses, then his cheeks, his eyes, as if trying to map every millimeter of Alex's face to store in his incredible memory for a future without his lover's physical presence.

That thought made Alex shiver, as if someone had just walked across his unmarked grave. He pulled Mulder tighter against him, wanting to feel the reality of Mulder's living presence pressed along the entire length of him. Somehow this time *was* different. Somehow they could both sense that this time there might not be a miracle that brought them back safely into each other's arms, and yet Alex could feel no terror. Another part of him was convinced that nothing could keep them apart forever, that they would find each other again -- in this life or the next.

He sighed, raggedly, against Mulder's neck, desperately wanting to believe in an afterlife; in all that Mulder took for granted through years of studying the paranormal. There had to be more than these few seconds that a human life spanned in the immense history of the world since its creation. He dare not believe that all that he was -- and all that *they* had become together -- could just simply vanish in nothingness.

He had to believe that death had no dominion over them...

-ooOOoo-

 **Cryogenics Facility  
Ten miles Outside Ft. Worth, Texas  
Earth**

Daylight filtered into the room when next he awoke, and he focused for moment on the fine dust motes that danced in the soft beam of light that striped diagonally across his body from shoulder to waist. Mulder lay in silence, listening to the soft hum of machinery as he tried to reorder his thoughts, recalling the final events that led him to this moment.

"Alex."

His voice was soft, the name whispered as a lover's caress as he remembered the last time he had held Alex in his arms. Two hours. That was all they had left to them and some strange foreboding warned him that this would be all there was even though another part of him said they would never be parted, at least not forever.

They had argued but Alex had been right. He, generally, *was* right, having an uncanny ability to separate the good from the useless in any plan and come up with options that no one had contemplated. That was what had made him such a dangerous individual, and a powerful leader of the Resistance, but it was the softer side that others rarely saw that had made him such a generous lover.

In those two hours, Mulder had tried to sear every facet of Alex Krycek into his brain. He had covered every inch of the strong body in kisses and caresses, learning every curve and plane anew with lips, tongue and fingertips. He had let his eyes roam across the writhing frame, memorizing every ripple and tremor of muscle, the arc of each movement of hand, arm, leg and the curve of spine and ass. He had plunged deep into the willing flesh, gaze fixed on the agony and ecstasy battling for possession across the beautiful face, watching as a bead of perspiration welled at the temple and trickled down into the sweat-dampened hair.

His ears had captured the soft moans and harsh cries torn from his lover as he was taken hard, hearing the keening wail that rose sharply, as Mulder emptied himself deep within his lover's body before he rode out the wild thrashing of the man beneath him. Creamy come spurted from between his busy fingers, coaxed from the hard shaft by his tightly fisted hand, to coat Alex's sweat-sheened belly and chest.

The pungency of their lovemaking had filled the air, momentarily overpowering his senses before it mingled with the rich aroma of their fresh sweat and leather, and the underlying scent that was pure Alex. He lapped at the salty sweat and bittersweet come lying upon the still heaving chest, his pleasure-softened shaft slipping from its sheath of hot flesh as he journeyed upwards to lick and nibble at the vulnerable throat that lay so open and exposed to his gaze. Mulder bit down hard just above the collarbone, sucking strongly to raise a welt that would brand his lover as his possession... if only for a short while.

They had spent their final minutes holding each other close within the cascading waters of a hot shower. They had cleansed each other with long, arousing strokes, bringing each to completion with mouths vying for full possession as their mingled seed was swept from their bodies to whirl slowly down the drain until all was lost forever.

This was where they had said their final, private goodbye, though no words passed their lips.

Alex had stepped out of the shower, closing the glass door behind him, and Mulder had stayed inside until the water began to chill, shuddering as the increasing coldness swept the last lingering memory of his lover's warm body from his flesh.

His thoughts returned to the present as a door opened, sliding aside in near silence and Mulder watched as the strangely clothed man walked up to his bedside. Cerulean blue eyes gazed down upon him with both curiosity and warmth; eyes that reminded him so much of Dana Scully.

"Do you remember your name?"

"Mulder. Fox William Mulder."

The man smiled approvingly.

"Do you have an idea of where you might be?"

"Cryogenics facility," Mulder said as he glanced around the ultra modern yet sterile room "Though I don't recall this room."

"It wasn't built when you went to sleep."

"How long?" He frowned. Had he been asleep almost a decade?

"Three hundred and forty-two years. It's the longest anyone has ever--"

"Three hundred years?" Mulder pushed weakly against the bed but his muscles felt as if they were made of rubber, unable to support his weight.

"No." The man reached down, placing both hands on Mulder's shoulders to gently push him back down to the bed. "Don't try and move just yet. The technical team is still restoring your body to full health and it'll be several days before you regain full strength."

Mulder gazed beyond the man, his eyes sweeping the room.

"Where's Alex?"

"He's... he's not here."

Mulder blinked in confusion. When he stepped inside the cryogenic chamber his last thought had been a good one. He had gone to sleep dreaming of waking to find Alex beside him, those green eyes full of love and desire, and his tempting mouth curled into a smile of pure pleasure at being reunited.

"My instructions were clear. I was not to be awoken until they found--"

"They *have* found him." The man paused, and Mulder found his eyes burning into the blue, wishing he could extract the information he wanted so desperately rather than wait for it to be slowly revealed to him. "He's..." The man raised his eyebrows as if the enormity of what he had learned had only just struck home. "He's alive."

Mulder heard the surprise in the man's voice. He let his eyes close, his trembling lips curling into a smile, as tears of joy pressed against the lids, squeezing between them to course down his face.

"Alive." Just as he had been promised all those centuries ago. Alex was alive. He opened his eyes to look hard at the man still standing over him. But where *was* Alex? Why had they not brought him here?

"Where is he?"

"That's where we have a little... problem."

-ooOOoo-

 **USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

Alex sighed and resumed cleaning the engine manifold. On that last day they had made love. Slowly. Gently. Spending every possible second of those two hours held in each other's arms. Kissing. Caressing. Tasting and touching. They had poured every emotion, every fiber of their beings into a slow but desperate union, wanting to sear each other's flesh, and heart, and soul with the very essence of one another as if this could keep them together for all time.

It hadn't worked.

Mulder was gone. Dead and buried centuries in the past.

He wished he knew where but every attempt to find information through the ship's computers had failed. Part of the Consortium's experimentation into genetic enhancements, in the hope of building a superhuman capable of defeating the Colonists had started a Eugenics War that had devastated the Earth soon after the threat of the Colonists had been wiped out. He sighed. There was an immense amount of data concerning the Colonist invasion plans on the library computer. However, the more personal information he had sought was lost in a world that had floundered on the brink of disaster before one man striving for the stars had not only reached his goal but found Earth a new ally in the form of the Vulcan people.

Still -- in the words of those first *acknowledged* contacts -- Alex had to be logical and accept that, after three hundred years, his lover was gone... and he was alone.

A flash of blonde hair caught his eye and he pressed back against the wall as Marita Covarrubias strode past.

No. Not entirely alone, but she was not the one-time lover who called to him across the reaches of time and space. She would never be the lover that he burned for, by day and night, whose face he sought in every crowded room even though the chance of him being here was beyond the very realms of possibility.

He watched as she scanned a datapad, a small smile curving her soft lips. If only he could be wrong about her, but he could never imagine her being able to curb the ambition that had sent her scurrying up the promotion ladders into the higher echelons of the Consortium. So many had taken her for a fool -- and paid for their stupidity with their lives. She was greedy, cold and power-hungry, willing to use all her charms to gain another foothold upon the ladder of success.

She moved off, purring contentedly at one of the men who had also been rescued from the Colonist ship, and Alex wondered what web of lies she was spinning for the unfortunate man. He let his thoughts drift back to the mess hall, and that weird debate that Tom Paris had started. He knew -- from Harry -- that Tom had a love for the era in which Alex had been born, so it was not unreasonable for him to have gained an interest in the Silent War, as it had become known in later centuries. Also, he knew Tom liked to play around with the holodeck, creating scenarios and programs that might entertain both himself and the others in the crew so the conversation might have been played in all innocence... and yet Alex was suspicious of Tom's motives. His sixth sense had kicked in almost immediately but he could not quite locate the reason behind his instinctive reaction to pull away.

Had it been an unguarded expression? Or the turn of a phrase? Something had tugged at him and Alex had learned, through bitter experience, not to ignore those subconscious signals.

Hearing Tom speak so enthusiastically about the times and places that he had known had both chilled and elated him. Firstly, Tom Paris had identified him as being one of the good guys, taking some of the fear of discovery from Alex's mind. He had worked so covertly, from high up within the Consortium, that he had doubted anyone -- bar the few people he had trusted implicitly with the secret -- would have realized his true position as head of the Resistance. Secondly, he wondered if Tom Paris had more information on what had happened to all those names that he listed after the end of the Silent War. In particular, he needed to know if Tom Paris knew what had happened to Fox Mulder... and to Spender.

Alex had spent all his free time buried in the library computer, reading through thousands of items that captured the life and work of Fox William Mulder, but every thread had been left hanging. Two months after the bio-toxin was released, and the threat to humanity from the Colonists eliminated, Mulder seemed to vanish without a trace. Alex had tried dozens of different avenues in his search for his lover. He had even read countless entries regarding Mulder's three techno-geek friends -- who had become Alex's allies during those final months -- in the hope that they might shed some light over what had become of Mulder. But there had been nothing. Everything had led to a dead end.

Dead end. Dead.

He screwed his eyes closed, hating this weakness within him that still insisted that Mulder was alive. Over these past weeks he had bounced between denial and morbid acceptance, filled with despair at his loss one moment, then clinging to the finest thread of hope in the next.

In truth, he knew he would never be able to accept Mulder's death until he had seen all the evidence... and even then he'd never be one hundred percent certain. Too many things had happened to them over the years... strange things that bore no explanation. He had seen Mulder die in his arms once, but had brought him back using the healing gift given to him by the Rebels. Unlike with Jeremiah, the healing had drained him, sapping away his strength and leaving him vulnerable but he would use it again without a second thought if it would be enough to bring Mulder back to his side.

His thoughts returned to Tom Paris of their own volition, and he brutally pushed aside everything else, including thoughts of Mulder, so he could focus on them. And then he realized why his thoughts had kept drifting to Tom. Tom Paris had knowledge of the late 20th and early 21st century, and he had excellent abilities for accessing the highly advanced library computer. He had already uncovered information that had revealed Alex's duplicity towards the Consortium, and his true allegiance to humanity. Perhaps, in his searches, he had come across the information Alex sought so desperately.

But how to approach Tom Paris, though? He *did* like the man, plus there couldn't be anything *too* bad about a man whom Harry considered to be a best friend.

That thought brought a smile to his lips, as he wondered what he must have done right to warrant being singled out for special attention from the Captain. Unlike the others who had been allotted a 'helper' from the lower ranks in the crew, he had been assigned to Ensign Kim: a bridge officer. Of course, Alex had no problems with that, as Harry was the kind of person who was impossible to dislike, and who was patient and accepting of even the most inane questions.

Harry Kim. *Harry Kim.*

That was the answer he needed. Instead of approaching Tom Paris, Alex would 'encourage' Harry to ask those questions for him. His eyes narrowed speculatively. In all his searching he had found nothing incriminating about Marita Covarrubias, but there had to be something, and maybe Tom Paris could dig that information up too.

He set back to work, his spirit lighter even though his heart was still laboring under the continued loss of his lover.

-ooOOoo-

 **Two Days Later  
Starfleet Headquarters  
San Francisco, Earth**

With immense gratitude, Mulder sank into the comfortably contoured seat in the office of Admiral Paris. His muscles were still weak, barely able to support his weight for more than a few minutes at a time, but Mulder had been determined to have this meeting. As he watched Paris order two coffees from the replicator, he let his thoughts dwell on these past two days.

He had awoken only to learn that Alex, though alive, was more than thirty-five years away from him on a Starship that had been flung to the other side of the galaxy. Even though Voyager was making its way home as fast as it could, and its Captain was determined that they would be home in single years rather than in decades, there were no guarantees that she would be successful in that endeavor. Still Voyager had already shaved three decades off its journey through various means so it wasn't impossible but, at present, only one bright spot illuminated the dark moment. Communications had been re-established with the faraway ship, albeit sporadically, and Mulder was determined to make use of the next communications window to contact Alex.

The older man placed the coffee down on the low table lying between them, and Mulder realized that this man was studying his face intently with more than just mild curiosity. He took the datapad that Mulder held out, and played it without a murmur.

Mulder closed his eyes as the muted sounds from the datapad filled the silence of the office, bringing images from a security camera flashing across his mind, as he saw what most had believed to be the last minutes of his lover's life.

He saw Alex hunched over a computer console, his nimble fingers -- ones that would stroke and caress him so gently -- flying over a keyboard as he uploaded the research papers that would provide Scully with enough data to create a bio-toxin that would thwart colonization. The files were sent out into the ether and captured by the expertise of three amazing computing experts -- the Lone Gunmen. Its path was scrambled, hidden from even the most brilliant technician as it downloaded to several Resistance cells across the world, three of them having the best scientific teams available. They started work on the bio-toxin in a race against time to create it before humanity was wiped from the face of the Earth.

Two of the three teams were destroyed before they could complete their work, but Scully's team had succeeded where the others had failed.

Alex had achieved what he had set out to do. He had saved the human race from extinction but at a price Mulder believed was too high. He saw, again, the dark head rising, glancing down the dimly lit corridors filled with cryopods and their grisly contents. The sounds of running feet and raised voices drew closer and Alex made to escape, but a sharp retort jerked him around, red blossoming high on his chest. Alex had grabbed at his shoulder but then stood his ground though he looked like his legs would fold beneath him. His ashen face was hard, uncompromising, as he turned to face a familiar, hated voice.

"Alex."

Even through the fuzziness of the camera, Mulder had seen his lover's lips curl back in a snarl of disgust.

Spender moved slowly towards Alex, the ever-present cigarette curling blue smoke behind him. He raised the Morley and took a long drag, the tip flaring bright red before dulling once more. He blew the smoke slowly but directly into Alex's face, letting the wisps caress his lover's features in lieu of the hands that Mulder knew must have been trembling as the cancerous old man refused to give in to the desire that filled him. Spender wanted Alex; he desired him with everything he had in his black soul and, sure enough, he could resist no longer and reached out to caress Alex's face. Alex jerked his head back, his disgust apparent in every line of his wounded body.

"It isn't too late, Alex. I can give you one last chance. You can come back." The additional words 'to me' hung unspoken between them but Alex had heard them... and so had Mulder. Unconsciously, his lips curled into a snarl as he thought of Spender.

"Never." The single, hard-edged word drifted across the room from where Admiral Paris was still engrossed in this piece of history come to life.

Alex had spat out the word and shoved hard against Spender, pushing him back into the henchmen behind before taking flight in the opposite direction.

Once more Mulder saw the images replaying in his head like a film on a never-ending loop.

Another shot rang out -- the gunman unseen -- crippling Alex as the bullet struck him mid-thigh. He went down, his leg buckling beneath him. Arms grabbed at him, dragging him back to where Spender waited with a face, uncustomary, white with fury. Spender grabbed Alex by the throat, moving his face forward until his nose almost touched Alex's. He tilted his head and kissed Alex hard on the lips, his other hand reaching behind the dark head to hold Alex in place. When he drew away, he flinched, smiling grimly before casually wiping the spittle from his face with the back of his hand.

"Perhaps you need a little time to consider your options." Spender's cold eyes traveled to the cryopod standing empty near by. "For if I can't have you, Alex..?"

More words hung between the two and, once more, Mulder gave a small ragged sigh in remembrance of the hard, uncompromising obsession written so plainly on Spender's face.

With a slight nod of his head Spender watched dispassionately as Alex was dragged backwards and forced inside the cryopod, battling all the way. Mulder's eyes filled with tears as he recalled the image of Alex disappearing behind the technicians and henchmen, only to see a fist raised to pound against the shell of the cryopod as they sealed the unit and allowed it to fill with the viscous liquid.

The pounding faded, fingers relaxing as the raised hand fell still, trapped between his body and the shell of the cryopod. The datapad fell silent, and Mulder only opened his eyes when he heard the Admiral softly clearing his throat.

"My only son is on board Voyager. After it disappeared into the Badlands there was no word for several years, and many of us learned how to grieve, believing them gone forever... destroyed... so I understand the loss you felt on first viewing this." He indicated towards the datapad. "Some people moved on but others, like myself, we waited and hoped, refusing to believe the worst until we had seen the undisputed evidence."

The Admiral picked up his mug and sipped at the hot contents, savoring the strong, black coffee for a moment before continuing. His eyes slid to the datapad though Mulder knew he was focusing on the data held within it.

"You had that undisputed evidence, and yet you chose a living death with only a twist of fate to release you; finding Alex Krycek or dying should the cryogenic process fail... just as it did eighty-three years earlier to another group in the same facility. Why?"

"Why?" Mulder gave him a twisted smile of bemusement. "I saw no undisputed evidence on that," he pointed to the datapad, "to indicate Alex was dead." He leaned forward, capturing Paris with his eyes. "I was sent a copy of that security tape two days after we started work on the bio-toxin. I knew who it was from, and I knew why Spender had sent it to me. We both knew Alex was completely immune to the retrovirus. That a Colonist couldn't gestate inside him--"

"Which explains why you refused to believe he was dead... *at the time*... but it doesn't explain--"

"The ship left Earth before we could free Alex. We caught up with Spender several months later, after the end of the war..." Mulder drifted off as his thoughts returned to those last frantic months where the Colonists did everything within their power to take control of the planet before the Resistance synthesized and released the bio-toxin.

-ooOOoo-

 **More Than 340 Years Ago  
Resistance Headquarters**

Hamed Nouira flanked Spender, as he was brought into the previously unknown headquarters of the Human Resistance, and Mulder felt his body tighten instinctively in revulsion. This man was his biological father but Mulder felt no son's love or affection for him: quite the opposite. This was the man whose greed for power had threatened the existence of practically every human being on the planet; a man so callous that he had murdered one son, Jeffrey, and would have killed his other, Mulder, without remorse given the right incentive. Mulder had only lived this long because it suited Spender to keep him alive -- or because others, such as the Englishman, had protected him. This reason alone would have been enough to make Spender the greatest threat and enemy to Mulder, but his hatred of his father ran far deeper for more personal reasons. This was the man whose obsession with Mulder's lover had led to them being separated once more -- and not for the first time, either.

On the first occasion the Rebels had returned Alex to Mulder alive and whole, having removed the Colonists implants and regenerated his severed left arm. By doing so they had made Alex an alien hybrid but there had been no doubt in Mulder's mind that the man they returned to him was the man he had come to love. However, Spender's obsession with Alex had led to Alex being kidnapped and encapsulated on the Tunisian mothership, and if it had not been for Hamed Nouira, Mulder would have lost Alex to the retrovirus. Unbeknownst to Mulder, his Tuareg guide, Nouira, was working for the Resistance and had carried with him a vial containing the vaccine with instructions to use it on Alex only as a last resort. No one could be certain what effect the vaccine might have on Alex's alien hybrid make-up but when Spender led them into the bowels of the mothership to Alex, Nouira had been given no choice. Fortunately, the vaccine had killed the retrovirus without killing Alex.

This last time Alex had walked into danger willingly, and alone but once more, it had been Spender who had ensured that Alex would be lost to Mulder. Several attempts to infiltrate the Hawaiian mothership had come to nothing and then news arrived that the mothership had left Earth... but Mulder could not believe that it had taken Alex with it.

"Where's Alex?"

Spender gave the small enigmatic smile that so infuriated Mulder and Mulder's only pleasure was knowing he had deprived the old man... *his* old man... of his coveted Morleys. He could see Spender trying to control the nervous movement of empty fingers, no longer steadied by the calming nicotine that would fill the air around him.

"Where... is... Alex?" He ground out again, unable to hide the hatred he felt for the man standing in front of him.

"Gone."

"You don't expect me to believe you would have left him on board that ship." Mulder glared at Spender, part of him shivering at the twisted remorse that shadowed Spender's eyes for an unguarded second. "No..." Mulder shook his head, refusing to believe that Spender might be telling him the truth. "You're a traitor and a liar--."

"Yet each man kills the thing he loves."

"No. He's immune to the retrovirus... and you knew that. You placed him in there to keep him out of the way... and out of my reach... while you planned what to do with him. You wanted him--"

"Yessss." He hissed through gritted, nicotine-stained teeth. "Yes, I wanted him but he wanted you. Only you. And if I couldn't have him--"

"Take him out of here."

Nouira grabbed Spender by the arm and drew him back a few steps before Spender shook free. He smoothed down his suit and turned back to Mulder, his pale eyes filled with remorse.

"I never meant to leave him there."

Mulder looked hard at Spender, desperately wanting to believe that this was yet another lie from a master of deceit but every instinct screamed that, for once, Spender *was* telling him the truth. Spender turned and walked away, back straight, head high, as if he believed he still held some importance in the scheme of things. As the door closed behind him, Mulder sank into a chair. Minutes passed before Nouira returned.

"Is he telling the truth?"

Nouira frowned. "I do not know... but I shall find out."

-ooOOoo-

 **Admiral Paris's Office  
Starfleet Headquarters  
San Francisco, Earth**

Mulder's eyes lost their faraway look.

"I didn't believe Spender would leave Alex on that ship." He sighed raggedly and leaned back in the seat. "He never meant to. He sent three of his men in to bring Alex out... but he'd left it too late. Only one of those three men reached the exit before the mothership sealed its hull. Nouira found him... and extracted the truth from him."

Once more Mulder drifted away in memories of the past as his almost perfect memory replayed the tape Nouira had made of that 'interview'.

-ooOOoo-

 **More Than 340 Years Ago  
Hawaii, Pacific Ocean  
Earth**

The shutters had been drawn to keep out the strong glare of a tropical day in what should have been paradise. Inside, the small room was furnished with a single wooden chair placed dead center and, upon it, sat a disheveled man with sandy-colored hair. Beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face and he mopped at some of the droplets with an already damp handkerchief.

Three other men occupied the room. Two stood like statues on either side of the door, their expressions hard and forbidding. The third man was large framed and dark-skinned, his almond eyes piercing. His hand shot out, connecting with a resounding smack against vulnerable flesh, drawing blood.

"Where is Alex Krycek?"

"We-we had our orders to bring him out."

"From who?"

"I--I don't know his name. Never did. We just called him 'the smoker'."

"Why three of you?"

"*He* said Krycek would be violent... that we'd need to--to subdue him."

"Then *where* is Alex Krycek?"

The man remained silent, eyes darting away. He wiped the blood from his split lip away with the back of his trembling hand but looked up sharply when Nouira lunged at him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and shouting the question again, directly into his face.

"It powered up... started to vibrate... I ran. I ran."

Nouira's eyes narrowed, understanding what the man was referring to but knowing he needed confirmation. Mulder would accept nothing less.

"Did you see Alex Krycek in the ship?"

"Yes." The man closed his eyes, head lowering. "Yes. He was there. *We* were there... in the control center. I looked right at him. We were about to release him when it powered up."

Nouira shoved the man back against his seat -- hard. The man looked up at the large Arab and added, hoarsely, "I ran."

"And the others?"

"The outer seal was closing. I leapt through, turned and saw the others. They weren't too far behind me but then those... *things* came at them, tore into them. Everything started to shake and I turned and ran again. Heard the screams cut off and figured the door had sealed."

"So no one but you escaped."

The man lifted terrified eyes. "What're you gonna do with me?"

Nouira looked hard into the man's face and turned away, moving towards the door. He spoke casually to the guards. "Let him go."

"No wait! You can't do that. You've gotta protect me!" Nouira turned on the threshold, dark almond eyes stabbing back at the trembling man. "Please! If you let me go then *he'll* get me."

-ooOOoo-

 **Admiral Paris's Office  
Starfleet Headquarters  
San Francisco  
Earth**

The image on the tape had faded at that point but Mulder had not needed to see any more. He had his answer, and he knew why the man had been so frightened -- and of whom. This man had left Alex behind in the mothership and, even incarcerated, he knew Spender would find a way to gain retribution against him for that particular failure.

He had been right, of course; his body found floating in the warm currents of the Pacific just a few weeks later.

"I still don't understand what made you choose cryogenics--"

Mulder looked deeply into Paris's eyes, about to ask the type of question that had often turned him from an intelligent FBI agent into a nutcase in the eyes of those hearing it. He expected a similar reaction from Admiral Paris

"Do you believe in the paranormal, in those who can see into the past... and into the future?"

"Precognition? Yes. It was proved back in the--"

Paris raised a graying eyebrow when Mulder gave him a smile of triumph that made the remainder of his words unnecessary. He could only look on in awe at a man who had been willing to risk his life and lose his past on the say-so of someone professing to have seen his future. In doing so he had spurned all the power he would have gained once the world became aware of his contribution to the survival of the human race. Yet he had willingly sacrificed all of that for a slim chance that he might be reunited with a man who, by all accounts, should have died over three hundred and forty years earlier. The fact that he had done this out of love for Alex Krycek gave Paris a healthy dose of respect for the man. As much as he loved his son, Paris could not imagine using a cryogenics facility for even the remaining thirty-five years of Voyager's homeward journey, just in the hope that he might then see his son in the flesh once more.

He nodded his head in acceptance of the risks Mulder had taken to be with his lover once more.

"So... how can I help you, Mr. Mulder?"

"There's a communications window opening to Voyager in less than two days. I want to... see him. Speak to him."

"All family and friends have the facility for sending a visual communications. I can ensure yours is bumped up to the top of the list--"

"No. I want to *see* him. Want to talk *with* him."

"That won't be possible this time around. The window is too short and I have pressing Starfleet bus--"

"What will it take?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What will it take to...?"

"I understand how you feel. When we first regained contact with Voyager I had dozens of requests similar to yours." Paris held up his hand as Mulder opened his mouth to argue with him how his case was far different. "The opportunity *will* come... but not this time around. I'm sorry."

Mulder nodded but Paris could almost see the man's renowned intelligence at work, sifting though plans and schemes, searching for a way to make him change his mind. He wished he could allow Mulder this request but if he made an exception for one person then he would pay for his compassion when the family and friends of other Voyager crew members learned of it and made *their* demands. He had not even broken that rule for himself, recalling that first contact with Voyager where time had been too short to allow *any* personal consideration. He still felt indebted to Janeway for her intuition in letting him know his son was alive, and traveling with Voyager.

"Then I'd best be going."

Mulder pushed off his seat, swaying a little before he could gain his equilibrium. He reached out a hand and Paris could see, in the gray/blue eyes that Mulder felt no animosity towards him over this.

"Perhaps your people can show me how to make one of those recordings."

"I'll have my personal aide show you, and then he can ensure your message goes to the top of the communications pile to be sent after official business has been dealt with."

"Thank you, Admiral."

Mulder turned away, the door to the outer office opening to reveal an anxious looking man pacing the outer area. The man stopped and reached for Mulder, steadying him, eyes glancing towards Paris at the negative shake of Mulder's head. His office door closed softly, leaving Admiral Paris alone with his thoughts, wishing there had been some way he could have said 'yes' to Fox Mulder.

-ooOOoo-

 **USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

Alex swept the gauge along the Jefferies tube, trying hard not to allow his thoughts to wander away from the menial task. He much preferred the time spent in the classroom, where he would be given no opportunity to do more than concentrate upon the lecturer and the lesson. Tasks like this one, cleaning the Jefferies, gave him too much time to think about all the people he had known -- and lost.

Mulder.

His heart ached anew, a stabbing pain that radiated to every part of his being, and he swore silently. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid and he wondered if he would ever be able to think of his lover without the terrible pain that even his name invoked.

The soft beep of the tricorder he carried caught at his attention and Alex stared at the figures rolling across the small screen. He frowned, tapping the instrument slightly in case it was merely misbehaving but the readings seemed to be increasing rather than reducing as he had expected.

Alex panned the tricorder around the enclosed space, noting that the readings were highest when he held it in the direction he had just come from. He turned completely, cursing anew at the tightness of the tube around him, understanding the other reason why most crewmembers hated this particular task. The Jefferies tubes ranged from a meter in diameter up to two meters in some places. Most of the tubes were of the smaller diameter making progress along them uncomfortable, as they had to be negotiated on hands and knees for the most part. The tubes acted as service tunnels, allowing easy access to the electronic and organic 'wiring' that linked every part of the ship to the Bridge and Engineering. The smooth walls were panels that could be removed easily to reveal the circuitry and organic gel packs that were the blood, vein and arteries of the ship's computer.

Glancing back in the direction that he had crawled, Alex could see nothing amiss, and then he realized that he could no longer hear the thrumming of the warp core, which meant that the hatch that led out into Engineering had been closed. But why would anyone close the hatch? Perhaps they didn't realize he was working in here... and maybe the sealed hatch explained the sudden rise in the cryptic readings.

He started to crawl forward, deciding it made sense to ask about the readings before continuing on with cleaning duty but his sixth sense kicked in. Alex licked his suddenly dry lips, recognizing how often his innate senses had saved him. Decision made, he turned again his movements awkward in the tight space as he bent his long legs beneath him. From previous experience, he knew there was an interior bulkhead maybe five meters in front of him. Another fifteen meters beyond that was a junction with a ladder leading up to the next level on the ship.

Gripping the strap of the tricorder between his teeth, he started crawling as fast as he could go, feeling a sense of urgency, as the soft beep of the tricorder grew more strident with each passing second. He was just two feet from the bulkhead when it started to close and, with sudden fear sending adrenaline kicking through his body, fueling his limbs, he leapt forward, barely scraping through before the door sealed shut tight behind him.

The tricorder clattered to the floor and Alex sat up and stared in bewilderment, wondering what was going on. He touched the communication badge on his chest.

"Engineering?"

Nothing happened.

The insistent beep of the tricorder echoed around the tube and Alex looked ahead in horror as the next bulkhead slid closed, trapping him inside fifteen meters of Jefferies tube. He crawled the fifteen meters to the second bulkhead as quickly as possible, opening the panel beside the door and trying to activate the open mechanism.

Nothing.

The seal between the door and its frame was far too tiny for him to get a good purchase and he looked around, hoping there would be something else he could use. He was convinced that there *had* to be a failsafe device around there somewhere. He spotted a strange oval object that had a handgrip on top and a metallic plate on the bottom. It had a simple control panel and Alex took a gamble and moved it towards the bulkhead door. A powerful magnetic force locked the object against the metal of the door and, with a half-laugh of relief; Alex realized he now had a way of getting a purchase on the metal.

Behind him, the tricorder was almost screeching out its hazard warning as Alex pulled hard on his newly made handle, gritting his teeth and giving an inarticulate cry as he pulled open the door. He pushed between the opening, using his own body as a temporary wedge and crying out as the door tried to crush him... then he was through, the door snapping shut behind him.

The ship lurched, and Alex stared back at the suddenly pockmarked door, realizing that something had happened on the other side where he had been moments before; something that had enough force to almost puncture through four inches of solid metal.

A shout drew his eyes away and he realized he was kneeling only a foot away from the vertical cross-tube.

"Alex!"

He recognized the voice and saw Harry crawling towards him from the opposite side of the tube. Harry scrambled across the opening and moved next to him.

"Are you all right?"

"What happened?"

"A rupture in one of the cooling vents. B'Elanna tried an intra-ship transport to beam you out of there but we couldn't get a fix."

"My badge was dead." Alex touched the communications badge and frowned when it beeped. "That's weird. It's working now."

Harry reached over and pulled it off Alex, turning it over in his hand, his face scrunched up in a frown. He looked back at the door that had sealed behind Alex, seeing the impacts from the explosion that had, fortunately, been contained by this second door. He shook his head slowly.

"You were lucky. The hatch into Engineering ruptured from the explosion, leaking poisonous coolant gas into the area close to the warp core... but B'Elanna managed to get everyone out in time." He held up his tricorder and scanned beyond the door. "It ripped through the intermediate bulkhead door too, so if the explosion hadn't killed you then the gas would have."

When he looked back at Alex he flinched but Alex knew he was seeing coldness in his eyes that he had not seen before.

"You sure you're okay, Alex?"

"Yeah. Fine. Just some bruising."

"Okay," Harry responded but Alex could see he was not convinced. As Alex turned to crawl away to the nearest exit from the Jefferies, Harry called after him. "I--I hope you don't mind that I called you Alex."

Alex stopped and sat down, turning back to face Harry, frowning slightly and then realizing that Harry could see the slight thaw in his glacial expression.

"When you wouldn't tell anyone your name, Tuvok and Tom did a search through the data-store. I didn't know they found out who you were until half an hour ago. I was angry at Tom... for what he said to you at breakfast... and that's when he told me..."

The ice melted completely as everything slipped into place. With sudden realization, Alex knew that Tom had engineered that breakfast conversation as a way of dropping a massive hint that Janeway knew who he was, and what he had been.

He sighed heavily, feeling a weight lifting from his shoulders now he no longer had to hide his identity from the people around him. He dredged up a smile for Harry, and then broke into a genuine smile as Harry grinned broadly.

"So... who else knows who I am?"

"Other than me and Tom? The Captain, Chakotay and Tuvok. I think that's it."

And Marita Covarrubias, Alex added silently.

At the thought of the icy blonde Consortium agent, Alex narrowed his eyes and looked back at the almost pierced bulkhead door. Silently, he wondered if this incident, coming so soon after his formal identification, was just a little too much of a coincidence. He kept his suspicion to himself as Harry reached out and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on. I'll help you over to Sickbay. Let the Doc check you over."

Alex smiled his agreement and allowed Harry to lead him from the Jefferies tube. His smile faded as he looked back once last time before exiting the tube, some how he was convinced that this had been no accident, and that Marita was behind it.

-ooOOoo-

 **San Francisco  
Earth**

Mulder looked out over the balcony and across the concourse to the distant, immense building that was Starfleet Headquarters. If he turned his head slightly, he would see the familiar shape of the Golden Gate Bridge spanning the harbor, almost giving lie to the truth that he had left *his* world more than three hundred years in the past.

It was still hard to believe that he had slept so long, though that belief was made easier by the lack of smog settling in thick pockets across the city, as it had in his time.

In this modern age, the Golden Gate Bridge gleamed like a beautiful reminder of a bygone age, with sunlight sparkling off its clean surface. Mulder could see it was still in use, and he watched the strange hovercars speed swiftly from one side of the bridge to the other. He sighed and looked back at the immense, crystal bright fascia of Starfleet stretching high into the azure blue, cloudless sky. Then he looked down at the massive Starfleet insignia that he'd been informed could be seen from a ship in orbit.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Mulder turned and faced the man who had been talking *at* him for the past twenty minutes.

"So I'm rich... but what good is any of it when Alex is half a lifetime away."

Seaton grimaced. "You don't get it, Mulder. You're not just rich... you're *mega* rich. You're one of the richest men in the Federation. You could *buy* a ship."

Mulder frowned, eyes narrowed in confusion. When he'd gone into cryogenic sleep he had left all his finances in Scully's capable hands. If she had done nothing but leave it in an interest bearing account then he would be a multi-millionaire, but the world had gone through a devastating war while he slept. After he awoke he caught up with the history of the world since what they had called the Silent War, and he had quite naturally assumed that most of the money had gone: lost over the centuries.

Seaton waved a hand towards the massive Starfleet Headquarters.

"Little do they know it, but the foundation built with your money has funded Starfleet from its earliest conception. The Foundation still funds research into scientific advances, into planetary reformation--"

"I could *buy* a starship?"

"And the crew to man it. You could meet him halfway... that's seventeen, eighteen years instead of thirty-five--"

"No."

Seaton snorted in disbelief. "But why not?"

"Because she said I'd be reunited with Alex here on Earth."

"Who said?"

"That's not important. What is important is that she's been proved right so far. She said Alex was alive, and that it would be years before we found each other again... and she was right. She said he would be unchanged when we met again... and she was right--"

"When Starfleet sends that transmission in four hours you'll be reunited... but he's not here. He's not on Earth... only *you* are."

"I know." Mulder felt tears prickle at the back of his eyes, and he closed them tight.

"So technically... she's still right--"

"No. That wasn't what she meant."

Mulder let his memory recall that strange meeting with Annie Hayden a month after the end of the Silent War. Annie had been nothing special to look at; slightly overweight with hair colored an unnatural shade of red to hide the streaks of gray. She was known as a psychic, used by the local police in Wisconsin to aid in their investigations of missing persons or objects, with varying degrees of success. He'd met her just the once during his profiling days in the FBI when she had worked on the same case as him.

He'd believed in her then... and together they had solved the case and found the abducted child.

She'd had a vision so powerful that she traveled from her home in Wisconsin to Washington. Somehow she had known that she would find him at his old apartment in Alexandria even though she could not have known the actual address, and even though he had spent the past year living abroad in the secret Human Resistance headquarters.

"I've seen him," she said. "He's alive... but he can't get free. It'll take years... decades... I can't see how long... before someone will free him. But he'll be as young as he is now... sleeping away the years."

It had made sense to Mulder as his last information on his lover had placed him in one of the Colonist stasis chambers used to preserve a host for impregnation. But Alex could never be made into a host... and if they merely forgot about him then...

"Where is he? Can you see?"

"He's not here... not on Earth... but he will be. That's where you'll be reunited."

Mulder pulled back from the memory and gazed into Seaton's cerulean blue eyes; the same eyes that had been looking down at him when he first awoke. The Director of the Cryogenics Facility had been his constant companion since that awakening, rarely leaving his side.

"She said we'd be reunited on Earth. I've trusted her this far--"

"I thought your motto was to trust no one."

Mulder looked into the concerned eyes. "I was wrong." He looked back at the giant structure in the distance. "Tell me more about the Foundation... and if I can use it to influence Admiral Paris."

"Won't work. The neutrality of the Foundation means he cannot... will not... be influenced. But maybe there's another way."

Mulder watched as Seaton moved to the communications console and, moments later, the Federation insignia was replaced with the serious expression of a Vulcan.

"Hegal421013"

The Vulcan, who could have been any age from thirty to a hundred human years, nodded once and then the screen went blank. Seaton turned and looked Mulder straight in the eye.

"Now we wait."

-ooOOoo-

 **Engineering, USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

Tuvok gave the equivalent of a frown as he stared at the readings taken in the damaged Jefferies tube. He lifted up the mangled wreckage of Krycek's tricorder and studied it for a moment before placing it in the container slung over his neck and shoulder, and then he crawled back out of the tube. Having taking diagnostics from every square inch both inside the Jefferies and in the immediate area surrounding the hatchway from Engineering, he knew there was no reason to delay the repair crew any longer.

Lt. Torres quickly moved in as soon as he gave the order, her brusque mannerisms a reflection of her Klingon heritage rather than irritation with Tuvok. Tuvok watched for a moment as the repair crew started stripping away what remained of the damaged interior. All of the damaged material would be recycled as efficiently as possible for, being so far from home; there was no Starfleet repair dock or supplies depot close at hand. Instead, they had learned to conserve raw materials and to ration essentials -- which included replicator usage and water.

As he turned away he saw a human male lurking in the vicinity and his efficient memory put a name to the face immediately. It also told him that Crewman Jarvis should have been on a rest break as he was on gamma shift -- the so-called night shift.

The warble of his communicator drew Tuvok's attention from the man, though he made a mental note of Jarvis's presence.

"Janeway to Commander Tuvok."

He pressed against the communicator, speaking in a low monotone. "Tuvok here, Captain."

"Have you anything to report?"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "I have yet to analyze the data, Captain."

"Any guesses what happened there?"

"Vulcans do not... guess."

Tuvok could hear the smile in Janeway's voice as she apologized but he could understand her impatience. Voyager had not been given a full inspection and overhaul since leaving dry dock just prior to taking its maiden voyage. In the last six years the ship had seen battle on many occasions, sometimes barely limping through to safety. Tuvok recalled one of their early run-ins with a race called the Vidiian. The ship had somehow become duplicated right down to the smallest particle. However, that amount of additional matter brought into the universe by this abnormal duplication had been cataclysmic. Both versions of Voyager had been disabled while caught in a busy area of Vidiian space, and one of its duplicated Captain's attempts to repair their ship had a detrimental effect on the other Voyager, causing it to be slowly torn apart. The only solution had been to destroy one version of the ship and it had made sense to destroy the severely crippled one. However, the Vidiian attacked, overrunning the operational version of Voyager with the aim of killing all the crew so that they could use their body parts to extend the lives of their own people who were suffering from a terrible phage -- a disease more hideous than leprosy in bygone ages.

The other Janeway had sacrificed her ship and crew, taking the Vidiian invaders with them, leaving the single, severely damaged Voyager to limp away as swiftly as it could. Then, as now, repair teams had focused on the important ships systems; warp engines, phasers, and shields; all the systems needed to run or fight. Other areas, by necessity, had struggled along with just essential repairs and Tuvok had warned that it was only a matter of time before some overlooked area disintegrated or failed.

This had been his assumption when he first arrived in Engineering to inspect the damage and, at a cursory glance, that assumption seemed to have been upheld. However, there were anomalies in the readings that spoke of something other than worn out systems, and Tuvok was beginning to suspect human error -- or sabotage.

He responded to Janeway's request for him to report to her as soon as he had information to impart. His thoughts turned from Janeway immediately after he signed off, and back to the problem at hand.

If this was human error -- or sabotage -- then how was Alex Krycek involved? Had this enigmatic human made a foolhardy attempt to interface with the computer while in the Jefferies tube? Or was there a far more sinister reason behind this explosion? Had someone attempted to murder Alex Krycek?

All of these thoughts traveled through Tuvok's incredible mind in seconds but, as he looked carefully at the data he had gathered, it became obvious that this had not been some rash attempt to circumnavigate the computer's lockout procedures. The explosion had occurred on the opposite site to where the computer conduit was situated, rupturing the coolant lines to send poisonous gas flooding throughout Engineering.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow as he saw a small spike in the composite readings that identified a chemical compound that could be used as an accelerant for an explosive. His facial expression remained unmoved at this revelation, though he raised the other eyebrow as he heard an expletive from Torres as she surveyed the damage to her beloved Engineering.

Tuvok took one last glance back at the busy repair crew and then left. He entered the turbolift and gave a single command, "Sickbay."

Lt. Kim had escorted Alex Krycek to Sickbay with the orders that Krycek was to remain there until Tuvok could question him. As the turbolift streaked towards its destination, Tuvok began to form a single question in his head.

-ooOOoo-

 **One Hour Earlier  
Sickbay, USS Voyager**

Harry kept a supportive hand beneath Alex's elbow as he accompanied him to Sickbay, making Alex acutely aware that Harry could see he was still shaken by what had happened. Silently, he wondered how many more times he would come face to face with death, cheating it at the last moment, except this time he felt like he was the proverbial cat who had just used up the last of his nine lives.

In truth, he had been walking the razor's edge between life and death for so many years that he ought to have become blasé to the danger. Though, perhaps he had survived thus far because he had not become immune to the fear, relying on that sixth sense kicking in. He'd ignored it once before... and ended up losing an arm to a bunch of Russian peasants... so he had vowed never going to make that same mistake again.

Alex sighed as he settled down onto the edge of the examination bed. He had broken that vow and ignored the danger one other time when his senses had screamed at him to get moving, but he'd had no choice. He knew Spender and his men were closing in on him on board the mothership. However, he couldn't leave until he was certain that the vital information on the bio-toxin had uploaded without error for there would have been no second chance for him -- or for the rest of humanity -- if he had failed.

Alex was surprised when it was Tom Paris rather than the Doctor who approached him with a medical tricorder in hand but then he recalled that Tom shared his duty time unevenly between Sickbay and the Bridge.

"Well, Michael, apart from a few bruises--"

"Alex knows."

Harry didn't have to say any more than that. He didn't have to explain what Alex knew for it was obvious by the use of his given name. Alex watched realization dawn on Tom's face followed by the slightest flush of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry about this morning. The Captain wanted me to--"

"It's okay. I understand what you were trying to do."

"Mr. Kim, report to the bridge."

Harry tapped his communicator as he heard Chakotay's voice, "On my way, Commander." He gave a wry grin and walked away, the door sliding closed quietly behind him.

Tom picked up a small instrument from a nearby tray and set the controls. He ordered Alex to lift his tunic and began to trace the path of the massive bruise across Alex's rib cage with the dermal regenerator, but then he stopped and frowned.

"That's strange. These bruises are healing up by themselves."

"Isn't that what bruises do?"

"Not this quickly... though the dermal regenerator *is* still faster." He switched the small device back on and moved it slowly across the damaged area only a centimeter above Alex's flesh. "There... those ribs should be sore for a little while, maybe even a little stiff in a few hours... least that's what I normally tell my patients. In your case, I wouldn't be surprised if there's no trace of the injury come morning."

Tom looked straight into Alex's eyes and Alex could clearly read the questions in the deep blue but he had no answers that he was willing to give. Not yet anyway, though he had been surprised by the lack of questioning from Janeway, and from the Doctor, in particular. Part of him wondered if they knew far more about him than Harry had inadvertently let slip so far. Perhaps they knew about the Rebel aliens that had helped the Resistance, or maybe they had even uncovered the medical records that must have been kept by the Englishman when they regrew his arm and removed the implants.

The door to Sickbay slid open, granting him momentary relief from Tom's unspoken questions until he saw the emotionless face of Lt. Commander Tuvok with his keen dark eyes focused entirely on him.

"I have been investigating the incident within Engineering and I have a single question. Do you know of anyone on Voyager who would want to kill you?"

Tom turned a stunned expression onto Tuvok and then looked back at Alex, his eyes wide in shock, but Tuvok's question came as no surprise to Alex. He already knew who was behind this incident, though it was doubtful that Marita had been the one to commit the actual sabotage. No doubt she had already found an accomplice within the crew, as it was unlikely that any of the recently rescued humans would have the necessary skill to set such a trap.

However, he had no proof to offer, for Marita had been cunning enough to lay a false trail of identification papers and genetic prints before making her near fatal mistake and ending up as a potential host for the Colonists. Unless he could uncover information to prove she was not who she claimed to be then it would remain his word against hers, and Marita had an exceptional talent for twisting the truth to make it look as if she was the victim. Her downfall had come when she told one too many lies to a man who was the master of deceit, but these men and women on Voyager were no match for Spender.

Alex looked away, trying to disguise his shiver of repulsion as he thought of the man he had once hero-worshipped, a man he had bedded willingly before he uncovered the horrific truth of his involvement in the possible annihilation of the human race. To his shame, he could still recall those early days when he had been willing to do anything Spender asked of him.

How many times had he dropped to his knees in front of Spender? How many times had he brought Spender to release while nicotine-stained fingers stroked through his bent head, carding through his hair? There was a time when he had loved the stale taste of cigarettes on his lover's breath, as he allowed Spender to claim his mouth as possessively as he had claimed his ass.

He hated the smell of cigarettes now.

Coupled with this was his guilt on discovering that Spender's unhealthy obsession with him had caused the deaths of more than a dozen look-a-likes. Young men with green eyes and dark hair had been offered a reward for gratifying Spender's sexual obsession, and then paid the ultimate price for not being *him*.

Alex sighed. It would be so easy to tell these people -- Tom, Harry, Janeway - everything, but Mulder's motto... to trust no one... had been deeply ingrained within him from the moment he discovered the truth and went on the run from Spender. Marita had gained an accomplice and there was no telling who that might be. For all he knew, that accomplice could be Tom, or Harry... or even Tuvok, though his sixth sense told him that this wasn't the case. However, somebody with access to the shift roster had made certain that he was in that Jefferies tube at the time of the explosion.

"Mr. Krycek?"

Alex looked into the dark, enigmatic eyes that shone with a depth of intelligence that he would probably never fathom, reminding him all too painfully of Mulder. Alex didn't bother to query Tuvok's usage of his true name knowing that Harry had probably informed him after leaving Sickbay.

"I don't have a name for you."

"That is unfortunate as the explosion obliterated any traces of DNA within the Jefferies tube, otherwise it would have been possible to reduce a list of suspects to a far smaller subset of the crew."

Alex kept a simple, non-aggressive eye contact with Tuvok, not wanting to break it for fear of Tuvok seeing too easily through his lie. Even so, he suspected that Tuvok was already convinced that he knew far more than he was telling.

"I see no reason for you to return to your duty shift. Your classroom activities commence in one point eight-two hours. I would suggest you use this time productively."

Alex gave a small smile as Tuvok turned away and headed out of Sickbay without a backward glance. His suspicion had just become fact. Tuvok knew he was withholding information but had been willing to allow him some time to come forward of his own volition.

'Use this time productively' he had said, and Alex knew just how to do that, as long as Tom Paris would agree to help.

"Well, can't see any reason for you to hang around here so--"

"I need your help," he said bluntly, seeing the raised eyebrows and widening blue eyes.

"My help?"

"You know the computer system inside out... and you know Twentieth century history."

"O--kay?"

"Fox William Mulder."

"The FBI agent who uncovered the conspiracy behind the Silent War."

"I need to know what happened to him... what became of him after... after... Damn."

Alex scrubbed at his eyes, unable to believe that even the thought of Mulder's death could have such a powerful impact on him. Yes... he had loved the man, beyond life itself... but he should be stronger than this... but it still seemed like only yesterday that he had held Mulder in his arms, submitting to his lover's demands as they brought each other to the height of pleasure.

"The Doc gave me a whole batch of cell cultures to catalogue but they can wait." Tom moved towards the Doctor's office, beckoning Alex to follow. He sat down before the computer access screen and started inputting commands. "Okay... let's see what we can find."

As time wore on Alex found himself taking over the search, reaching across to force their search down paths that seemed confusing to Tom. However, Alex had a feeling that he was slowly heading in the right direction, though he had been unable to find this path before, without Tom's help. There had been sequences of actions that came from Tom's intrinsic knowledge of the system and Alex catalogued those actions carefully, fully intending to use them later when he began the hunt to prove Marita Covarrubias was the hidden enemy on board Voyager. He knew that he ought to have made her his first priority for she was an immediate threat but his heart had overruled his head.

They spent three hours huddled over computer, stopping only to answer a call when Alex's lecturer inquired why he was not in the classroom awaiting instruction. Fortunately, Tom had intervened, taking responsibility for Alex's absence with a valid excuse that they were involved in research on the library computer.

Alex dropped his head to the Doctor's desk, banging his forehead against it in abject misery and frustration. Despite every lead they had followed over these three hours, all had led to a dead end in the four months following the end of the Silent War. It was if Mulder had disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Alex frowned, wondering if that had been the case. Had the Colonists or the Rebels taken Mulder off world? And what of Scully and her child? What had happened to them after the war?

"Dana Scully was his friend and colleague. What happened to her after the war?"

They scanned through reams of data as they sipped at black coffee bought with their few replicator rations. Alex frowned when a name came back for the third time. Glendale. He reached over and directed the computer to give information pertaining to that name and discovered it was a small place about ten miles outside of Fort Worth in Texas.

"I wonder why she kept going back there?"

The warble of Tom's communicator called their attention.

"Mr. Paris. Please escort Mr. Krycek to my Ready Room immediately."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Tom gave a frustrated sigh as he looked towards Alex. "Computer, store saved searches, code Paris-alpha-two-zero-five-b." He stood up, flexing to ease muscles that had cramped from being seated in one position for so long. "We can resume this later."

Alex nodded his head in acceptance and followed Tom to the door. It opened automatically, sliding aside with just the slightest hiss of hydraulics, and then closed behind them as they moved down the corridor towards the turbolift.

"You know, you have a real aptitude for computers."

"I used to be a hacker."

Tom grinned as they stepped into the turbolift and gave the command to the computer to send them to the bridge. "I'll take you the scenic route."

The doors opened and Alex stepped into the heart of Voyager, his eyes widening at the massive viewscreen that showed the flashing starfield as the ship hurtled through space towards home. At a nudge from Tom he followed him around the top section of the bridge, finding a small smile for Harry and a nod of greeting for Chakotay before pausing before another door. Tom depressed the call announcement pad and the door slid open silently to reveal the Captain's Ready Room.

"Come in, gentlemen, and take a seat.

Alex glanced around the plush room, half-expecting Tuvok to be present as he assumed this meeting had to do with the earlier incident in Engineering. Tuvok had warned him to use his time productively and part of him was beginning to regret that he had not asked Tom to instigate a search on Marita Covarrubias.

"Mr. Krycek... I apologies for the lack privacy but there is someone on Earth who very much wants to speak with you."

Alex frowned and then recalled the excitement over these last few days that there might be more messages from home soon. He knew from talks with Harry that opportunities for the crew to make contact with friends and family were sporadic at best but a vast improvement on the earlier years where they had been completely on their own.

"Admiral Paris?" Janeway had turned back to the screen and was addressing the uniformed man seated on the other side of the galaxy.

The gray-haired man had his back to the screen back he turned, and Alex could see the resemblance between father and son. He saw the Admiral's blue eyes glisten as they caught sight of Tom hovering in the background but then he became all business and the camera panned sideways.

Alex felt his heart skip a beat; his throat drying instantly while his head reeled in shock. He reached out, mutely, fingertips pressing against the viewscreen as well-remembered fingers reached back across time and space towards him. Alex recalled looking into the mirror at his shape-shifted form depicting his lover, Fox Mulder, but this time there was no pain as his own green eyes stared back at him. This time the eyes staring back were blue and gray and gold with pupils swiftly swallowing the chameleon hazel as Mulder fixed his eyes upon him.

Mulder was grinning inanely, his eyes glistening with unshed tears and Alex swallowed around his suddenly dry mouth, croaking out a single question.

"How..?"

"It's all in the message I've sent you."

"Gentlemen... I'm sorry, but time's almost up."

Alex couldn't even spare Janeway a sideways glance, unable to tear his eyes away from this most precious man.

"Stay alive, Alex. I'll be waiting here for you."

Static began to fill the viewscreen and Alex started to panic, not wanting to lose sight of his lover.

"No!"

The image disappeared, drowned out by galactic static leaving Alex momentarily shell-shocked... and then a slow grin crept across his face.

Mulder was alive!

-ooOOoo-

 **Admiral Paris's Office  
Starfleet Headquarters  
San Francisco  
Earth**

Mulder let his fingers linger on the screen, even though all that remained was galactic static, but his eidetic memory had left him with the image of Alex fixed so crisply in his mind. If he moved his index finger a fraction then he'd be caressing the high cheekbones and then the jaw line as it curved down to the narrow chin. If he moved his middle finger then he could trace a path down the straight nose to the slightly upturned tip before dipping into the slight indentation just above the full lips with their deep cupid's bow.

Such a beautiful mouth, an enigmatic mouth, firm yet soft, demanding and yielding, filled with words both honeyed and venomous. Mulder could still hear Alex's voice, hoarsened in shock as he uttered that single word, and he could still see the green eyes widen with so many emotions chasing across them that it was hard to pinpoint any one in particular.

Mulder knew what he wanted to do next. He wanted to go to a quiet room and sit in the dark, letting the image of Alex flow over him like a movie played in slow motion. He wanted to feast on every one of those precious few seconds they had been granted, wanted to linger on every curve and line on the expressive face. He wanted to read every emotion that had passed across green eyes that were as stormy as the Baltic Sea in winter.

Afterwards, he would recall every part of their inextricable relationship.

There had been a time when he had wanted to solve the enigma that was Alex Krycek and dissect the strange bond that had sprung into life between them from the moment they met. And there had been many times when he had wished to escape from the hold Alex had over him... until he solved part of the mystery and realized that it was a soul-deep bond that linked them -- one to the other.

Before Alex came into his life he had felt only half alive, driven by an obsession to find his sister in the false belief that she was that missing part of himself, but that same obsession had blinded him to the truth. A single, almost platonic kiss in the darkness, at a time when he had lost hope and faith in his quest for the truth, had changed everything. And yet it had still taken many more months of soul searching before he understood the true depth of the inextricable relationship he shared with Alex.

After Alex disappeared on that final mission, Mulder had felt as if he had been plunged back into the nightmare of those early years except, this time, the driving force behind his obsession had been a need to find Alex rather than Samantha. Once again he had refused to give up hope... refused to believe that Alex was dead even after Spender's henchman confirmed that Alex had still been on board the mothership when it left the Earth.

Another memory flooded through him of his final meeting with Jeremiah Smith...

-ooOOoo-

 **More Than 340 Years Ago  
Resistance Headquarters**

Mulder strode forward swiftly as Nouira escorted Jeremiah Smith into the room, unconsciously shaking off Scully's hand that had reached out to comfort him. His eyes swept the Rebel morph's chosen human form, seeing all the small details that set him apart from others of his kind who liked to use a similar countenance.

"Jeremiah, I need you help."

"I know what you want of us," Smith shook his head slowly, "but we cannot help you."

"Why? He risked everything... for all of us... your people as well as mine... the least you could--"

"The ship has gone. We attacked it as it left the Earth's atmosphere, hoping to force it to turn back to Earth but... they were desperate to escape."

"Can you track them?"

"No."

"But you must know where they were head--"

"The battle was intense and the mothership sustained severe, irreparable damage. The hull was breached in at least one major place, exposing that area of the ship to cosmic radiation--"

"But you know where they came from, and where they will head."

"We do... but the area targeted for attack also housed helm control systems. We damaged it far more than we anticipated. The Colonist ship went into transwarp without any means of altering its course--"

"Then if it can't change direction you *can* follow it."

Jeremiah smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, the transwarp corridor it created was unstable so the ship could have dropped out into normal space anywhere between here and the farthest edge of what your astronomers call the Delta Quadrant of your galaxy."

Mulder instantly pictured the galaxy from books and films, his sharp mind pinpointing Earth's insignificant position on one of the western spiral arms in what scientists had labeled, egotistically, the Alpha Quadrant. He couldn't begin to guess how far the ship might have traveled by now, and his heart stilled momentarily in horror that Alex could be lost to him forever.

Scully stepped forward, with her blue eyes filled with questions. "Why not beyond our galaxy?"

"One of our ships moved into an intercept course just beyond the rim of this galaxy but they found no recent signs of a ship passing within a transwarp corridor. The Colonist ship has dropped out of the corridor... and there is no easy way to discover exactly where that happened."

"What about a hard way?" Mulder choked out his request, wanting to latch onto any hope that remained to him.

"It would take decades for my people to search every light year of space along that corridor, assuming we had the resources to spare. And assuming the Colonist ship did not drop straight into the gravitational field of a star, a wormhole or a black hole... and we do not have the resources." Jeremiah reached out and laid a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "I am sorry for your loss."

-ooOOoo-

Mulder's thoughts returned to the present as he felt a hand drop onto his shoulder from the man standing behind him. He looked back up into Seaton's concerned face and placed his own hand upon Seaton's in reassurance. With his heart lighter than it had been since the day he said his last 'goodbye' to Alex all those centuries earlier, Mulder rose to his feet. The Admiral stood as well.

"Admiral. Thank you."

"I'm not the person you need to thank, though I'm pleased I could be of some assistance. Someone high on the Vulcan Council sent the request through their Ambassador to Earth."

Mulder frowned slightly and then nodded, knowing that Paris would not have risen to the rank of Admiral if he had been unable to keep information to himself. Someone must have instructed him to tell Mulder about his unusual benefactor or, at the very least, not held him to secrecy about the source of Mulder's good fortune. However, this information had not come as that much of a surprise, as Mulder had been present when Seaton made his cryptic call to what he suspected was the Vulcan embassy.

The only question Mulder had was 'why'.

Every thing that Mulder had learned about the Vulcan people showed that they revered logic, honor and duty above all else, and that emotions were deliberately suppressed. His desire to see Alex had been fueled by emotion and need rather than logic. He knew Alex would see the holographic message he had recorded for him but that hadn't been enough. He had needed to see Alex, even for those precious few seconds, just to affirm that he was truly alive.

So why would someone high up on the Vulcan Council intervene on his behalf just so he could spend less than twenty seconds face to face with the man he loved?

As he walked from the Admiral's office towards the transporter station, Mulder glanced at the man walking beside him. He had questioned Seaton after he placed the call to the Vulcans but Seaton had refused to give any answers. Mulder intended to ask him those same questions again but, this time, he would not give in until he knew everything.

-ooOOoo-

 **USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

Marita swore, her beautiful face contorted into an ugly mask as she snarled at the lowly crewman who had failed her. The plan had been so simple and Jarvis had convinced her that it was foolproof too. With the ship limping along from years of battles and a lack of resources to make good on all the damage it had sustained, the explosion in the Jefferies tube -- and subsequent death of the unfortunate man working in there at the time -- should have been accepted as an unfortunate accident. Instead, not only had Krycek escaped his fate once more but also that damned Vulcan Security Officer suspected that it was no accident.

Worse still, Jarvis had been seen in Engineering by the Vulcan and then, stupidly, had come straight to her to tell her that he had failed.

Jarvis puffed himself up, full of outrage that she should treat him like he was little more than an underling and an imbecile, giving Marita the urge to plunge her concealed knife between his legs to deflate more than just his bruised ego. But then she would have to find another fool who was willing to do her bidding, and on a ship carrying less than two hundred crewmembers, that would difficult. It had taken her all of this time just to convince Jarvis that she was the one in grave danger and needing his 'manly' protection, letting him use her body while she subtly appealed to his inflated male ego.

She schooled her face back to one of beauty and innocence, and reached out to caress his anger-tensed face, manipulating him just as she had used so many others.

"I'm sorry, my love. I'm so afraid *he* is going to hurt me, or kill me, just because I know who he is -- and what he is." She licked across her perfect, ruby-red lips, letting them glisten invitingly as she pouted softly. "I want us to be together... safe from *him*. We can do all those things you wanted. We'll ask the Captain to marry us and we'll have children. Such fine children they would be... strong and courageous like their father."

Her fingers trailed over his pectoral, teasing at a small nipple beneath the clinging material of his Federation uniform.

Her other hand smoothed over the growing bulge at his groin, rubbing teasingly while she purred her false delight. Inside, she grinned maliciously as he fell for her charms again, letting him believe she was the submissive one as he grabbed hold of her and kissed her soundly. His hands tore at her uniform, stripping it from her and she moaned in mock pleasure as he entered her.

She closed her eyes, tuning out his grunts of passion and focusing, instead, on a far better lover from her past. Alex had been so good, an equal to her in all ways. She had led him to his grimy bed on board that dirty Russian ship and, at first, she had been forced to hide her revulsion at seeing his cruelly truncated arm.... but he had been such a good lover, so generous, and instinctively knowing exactly what she needed. If circumstances had been different then she never would have betrayed him to those old men of the Consortium.

She recalled the feel of his warm, flesh and blood hand cupping her breast, the thumb playing over the sensitive nipple while he lapped at her, bringing her to those dizzying heights of pleasure. Then afterwards he had pulled her on top of him, letting her straddle his firm, muscular body, taking his hard shaft deep inside and enjoying the feral pleasure in his beautiful eyes as she brought him to release.

Such a shame that she had to kill him, but there was no other option open to her. He knew who she was, and what she was. He knew what she desired above all else, and his warped sense of duty -- instilled into him by the faith of one old Englishman and one handsome FBI agent -- would impel him to stop her at all costs. Still, if there was any way that she could bring him onto her side, or if there had been any love between them then he would have been well worth the trouble.

But she knew whom he loved... beyond life and beyond reason... and now that he had realized his dream of being with Fox Mulder, and found that obsession returned in full, he would never want another. Even that one time, back on that dirty ship, she knew there had been no affection between them, as he had loved Mulder from the very first.

Just the rut of two beautiful animals, she thought vainly as she let the memory of Alex's possession drive her spiraling upwards to new passion as Jarvis thrust deep inside her. Her last thought before her orgasm overtook her was how pleasurable it would be when she no longer needed Jarvis... for then she would cut off his balls before she slit his throat.

Afterwards, Jarvis lay in a pathetic heap by her side, stroking her inner thighs to smear the evidence of his passion over her flesh in some weird ritual of possession. But as she lay there, her mind had already turned away from him to the new problem she faced. Not only was Krycek still a beautiful but deadly danger... but now this Tuvok had to be eliminated as well.

-ooOOoo-

 **Holodeck, USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

Tom walked a still shaken Alex down to the holodeck to where he would be able to view the message that Fox Mulder had sent. It was hard to believe that Mulder was alive after all these centuries, much less that he had been waiting for Alex Krycek. Tom no longer needed to wonder about the relationship between the two men as it was now obvious that they had been -- *were* -- more than just associates, more than just friends.

The door to the holodeck swished open as they approached and they stepped into an empty room where every wall, and the floor and ceiling, was covered in a grid pattern.

Harry had brought Alex here once or twice when one of Tom's programs was running. Even after all these years, Sandrine's was still a popular program for off-duty crew to relax in after their shifts. Tom had modeled it on a French bar he had frequented during his early years in Starfleet Academy, before he made a stupid mistake and was dishonorably discharged. He mused, silently to himself, at how strange things had turned out.

Janeway had taken him out of the penal colony in New Zealand for the express purpose of helping her track down the missing Maquis vessel that Tuvok had infiltrated. In truth, he had no intention of handing the Maquis over to Janeway but her offer had been hard to resist. He'd seen it as a means of escaping the penal colony even if for only a short time.

Tom snorted softly. That 'short time' had turned into six years and counting after Voyager encountered the same anomaly that had struck Chakotay's Maquis ship and flung them a lifetime away from home.

His first few years on Voyager had been hard. He was distrusted by the Starfleet crew and considered a traitor by the Maquis but somewhere along the way he had managed to earn the respect of both.

Tom frowned as it occurred to him that, of all the people on board Voyager, he could probably relate to Alex Krycek most of all. From all that he had uncovered in the database, Alex had spent years as a renegade, barely trusted by anyone, forever forced to watch his back, never knowing who he could trust from one day to the next.

He made an exception out of Fox Mulder.

It seemed as if Alex had gone to extreme lengths to protect Mulder over those years, even during the time that Mulder was convinced Alex had murdered his father.

 _You're a murderer, a liar and a coward._

The words from that old audio record reverberated around Tom's head. How could Fox Mulder have been so wrong about Alex Krycek? What had happened between them to make him believe all those things he had said about Alex? And what had happened to make him realize the truth?

Everything Tom had read about Alex Krycek: Consortium agent, spy, renegade, traitor, assassin and Human Resistance Leader showed that he might have needed to lie and to kill, but he was never a coward.

"What do I do?"

Tom reached over and activated the datapad that Alex held in trembling fingers. He indicated the code on the small screen.

"Computer. Prepare message Krycek-950-alpha." He turned to Alex. "When you're ready just tell the computer to start. Pause, replay, stop... whatever you need." Tom bit into his lower lip, chewing thoughtfully. "Do you want me to wait for you outside?"

"No. But thanks."

"Okay. I'll be back in Sickbay in case you want to talk."

Tom walked away but looked back as he reached the doorway. He sighed at the image of Alex Krycek standing so alone in the center of that empty room and hoped that, whatever message Mulder had sent, it would remove the last traces of doubt and grief from the handsome face.

-ooOOoo-

Alex waited until the door had closed behind Tom before he gave the computer a command to start the message. He waited, throat suddenly dry as a section of an empty, blurred room appeared directly in front of him. Suddenly a familiar head with floppy, light brown hair tumbling over the forehead appeared from around an unseen corner.

"Boo!! Bet you weren't expecting me?"

Alex laughed softly, even as tears prickled at the back of his eyes. It was typical of Mulder to make a joke out of this; an in-built defense mechanism, and if this had been their first contact it would have had a far greater impact. It was obvious to Alex that Mulder had not expected to be granted those few seconds of 'live' communication.

"When I said I'd wait for you to call I was expecting a few days... maybe a week at best. Next time I'll take your number and you can wait on me."

The holographic image of Mulder grinned directly at Alex, as if he could actually see him and Alex lifted his hand to try and caress the full lower lip. His heart contracted in pain as his finger went straight through the image but then he focused on the miracle of Mulder's presence as Mulder explained what he had done -- and why.

"They said Voyager is decades away but they have hopes of finding a short cut to get the ship home sooner. Janeway seems adamant that she'll be home soon." Mulder's face sobered, the grin fading. "I missed you, Alex... every second of every day... not knowing if you were alive or dead but living in hope. I put my faith in the very people that most others mock..."

Mulder reached up and scrubbed his hand across his eyes and Alex found he was mirroring that action as his own tears fell.

"Annie Hayden... she promised we'd be reunited on Earth so I'm planning to stay here. I'll be waiting for you. Just don't take too long this time."

The image faded as the message ended, leaving Alex alone in the grid-covered room. He shut his eyes, letting the image of Fox Mulder flow behind the closed lids and then realized that he had barely heard a single word. Instead, his mind had focused on the sound of Mulder's voice, and on each and every subtle movement on a face that could be so expressive in spite of his tendency to talk in monotone when relating information. He grinned as he recalled the beaming smile and sparkling blue/green eyes, awed as ever by Mulder's certainty that this recorded message would reach Alex.

He opened his eyes.

"Computer. Replay message," he commanded softly, and this time he listened to the words, smiling at the subtle jokes that would be meaningless to anyone other than himself.

-ooOOoo-

 **Sickbay, USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

When Tom stepped back into Sickbay having left Alex alone to view his message, he was surprised to find the Doctor in his office in conference with Captain Janeway, Chakotay and Tuvok.

"Ah... I'll come back later."

"No, wait, Tom." Janeway raised a hand. "This concerns Alex Krycek. Perhaps you should join us."

Tom moved swiftly into the office and sat on the edge of the desk. He waited patiently, curious to know what they wanted to discuss. The Doctor gave a quick recap.

"I've just completed final analysis of Mr. Krycek's DNA and have made an astounding discovery. What I first believed to be alien and hybrid cells within his blood stream are, in fact, organic nanocytes very similar in structure to those in Seven of Nine. Except Borg nanocytes are microscopic machines, of course."

The Doctor gave a smug smile as he watched the reactions of the others.

"Once removed from Mr. Krycek the nanocytes deteriorated rapidly but not before I had an opportunity to run a few tests. Exposure to a virus or bacterium led to a ferocious attack by the nanocytes, destroying all trace of the invader in a matter of minutes. Even the common cold wouldn't stand a chance against them... and cell regeneration occurs at an amazing rate."

"That would explain his healing abilities."

"Mr. Paris?"

"When he was brought in here earlier after the explosion, I noticed his cuts and abrasions were healing faster than the average human. Not as fast as using a dermal regenerator but.... you get my point."

"Indeed we do, Mr. Paris. Doctor? Have you ascertained the origin of the alien DNA?" Tuvok asked but, despite his emotionless tone, Tom could see that his interest was piqued.

"Not in this galaxy, though I did find sequences within the DNA strand that were uncomfortably close to Colonist DNA held on record." He held up his hand to forestall any comments, "But that only confirms that the Colonists and the race whose genetic code lives on in Mr. Krycek came from the same galaxy.

"Just as every creature native to this galaxy has DNA in common," Janeway added.

"Exactly, Captain. But there is more."

"Go on."

"I took tissue samples from skin, bone, cartilage, muscle and found another anomaly. The elasticity of those cells are remarkable, and very similar in structure to the Founders."

"The Changelings in the Gamma Quadrant."

"Yes, Commander. Our Mr. Krycek has an... admittedly limited... ability to mould his face and body to a new configuration at will. However, you won't be seeing him turn into a puddle of goo."

"Or oil," Tom added wryly, recalling the natural state of the Colonists.

"Fortunately, no, but given the nature of this discovery I would like to run more tests on Mr. Krycek."

"Agreed... if Mr. Krycek will allow it."

Chakotay leaned forward in his seat. "This may not be the right time to raise this issue but I wanted to mention that Alex Krycek held a position of great authority within the Resistance in his time."

"Your point being?"

"No matter his genetic make-up, he was a leader fighting to prevent the genocide of the human race."

"You want him promoted out of the lower ranks."

"He's not far different from myself, or B'Elanna, or Tom..." Chakotay indicated Tom with his eyes.

"He's wasted in engineering, Captain," Tom interjected. "I've been working with him on the computer... and he's talented."

"Captain Janeway... I must agree with Commander Chakotay and Mr. Paris." Tuvok steepled his fingers. "Mr. Krycek has shown an exceptional learning curve. It *would* be of greater benefit to Voyager if he spent more time in the classroom and less time on menial tasks."

"I see." Janeway gave the ghost of a smile as if she had already made a decision and had just been waiting for them to reach the same one too. "So there would be no objections if I raised Mr. Krycek to the rank of Ensign and placed him under your supervision, Mr. Tuvok."

"I would have no objections, Captain."

"Then make it so, Commander."

Chakotay nodded, knowing this came under his control as both First Officer and Executive Officer on board Voyager.

"Is that everything?" A chorus of 'Yes, Captain' followed. "Then I have a cup of real coffee with my name on it waiting for me."

-ooOOoo-

 **San Francisco  
Earth**

Mulder waited until they had reached the relative security of the quarters Seaton had found for them close to Starfleet Headquarters. It was only now that he realized how plush they were in comparison to the motel rooms he had stayed in during his time as an FBI Special Agent. Instead of a threadbare carpet beneath his feet, Mulder saw an expensive replica of a luxurious Chinese rug. In place of tattered floral patterned curtains and torn netting, there hung heavy damask. Curtains were superfluous, as the window could be darkened on command to prevent anyone from looking in, or to shut out the light from outside.

He watched as Seaton walked straight over to the desk and started to sift through a pile of papers that had not been there before they left. But Mulder was not interested in those... yet. He had fixated on another issue that demanded answers first.

Mulder recalled Seaton contacting the Vulcans using a single code word: Hegal421013.

2630 Hegal Place, Apartment 42 was his old home address, and Silo 1013 was the place in North Dakota where Spender had left Alex to die after he was taken over by the Colonist from the Piper Maru.

Both of those places held great significance to them.

Hegal Place was where Alex had, unknowingly for both of them, breached his defenses and renewed Mulder's faith in his pursuit of the truth. He discovered that Alex's allegiance had finally been won as Alex hinted of a Human Resistance movement that was slowly building against both the Colonists and those in the Consortium who would see humanity enslaved. It was also where he began to comprehend the compelling nature of his relationship with Alex Krycek, finally understanding why that first act of betrayal had cut him so deeply.

Before Silo 1013 Alex had been little more than a renegade; selling Consortium secrets to the highest bidder as a way of taking vengeance on the old men who had tried to blow him up along with the MJ-12 tape that he had taken from Skinner by force. Afterwards he had started his own private war against the Colonists, as well as against the Consortium, infiltrating the Russian Consortium after discovering that they were working on a vaccine.

"Why the Vulcan Embassy? And why that particular password?"

Seaton looked up, lips tightening, as if he had been expecting Mulder to ask those questions of him once more. However, this time he did not back away or refuse to answer.

"Some event triggered the wake-up call that brought you out of cryogenic stasis. I didn't need to know the details but once I had dealt with your revival I followed a set of instructions handed down from director to director since the time you entered your sleep. I contacted the Vulcan Embassy..." Seaton snorted, "And they already knew all about it. Whatever had triggered your awakening had also contacted them."

Seaton took a few steps and sat down on the plush couch, beckoning Mulder to take the seat opposite. Mulder sank, gratefully, into the comfortable chair, all too aware of his continuing weakness though he knew he was growing stronger with each passing day.

"They released records to me... about you, and about Alex Krycek. They explained who you were and why you were in stasis, and then they explained why Alex Krycek would not be your first sight upon awakening."

"Who are 'they'?"

"The Guardians of the Foundation."

"The Vulcans are the guardians of this Foundation that I... own?"

"Co-own. You own it jointly with Alex Krycek and one other."

"Who? Who is the other?"

Seaton shook his head. "I don't know, and I expect very few people do. All I do know is that this person resides on Vulcan."

Having been awake for only a few days, Mulder had learned a little bit about the influential races that formed part of the Federation but he had no idea where their planet of origin was. He rose from his seat and moved to the computer console, indicating Seaton to follow. Mulder dropped into one of the seats behind the desk and pointed to the console.

"I need you to show me star maps. I want to see where Vulcan is, and I want to see where they estimate Voyager to be."

Seaton slipped into the other seat and began pulling up the information and, once more, Mulder gave thanks that he'd been blessed with a photographic memory as he studied the maps that Seaton displayed.

Mulder frowned at the distance separating Earth from Vulcan. In his time, Vulcan would have taken decades to reach but with warp technology he knew it could take less than a week. It made him all too aware of how far away Alex was right now.

"So far away," he murmured softly as his finger traced the shortest path between Earth and Voyager.

"They're looking for shortcuts. Wormholes like the one leading into the Gamma Quadrant, alien technology. They've already shaved off half the journey - that's thirty-five years - in less than seven."

"Going by that, if their luck continued then it would still take another seven years for them to reach Earth."

"I know."

Mulder slumped back in his seat. Seven years seemed a lifetime to him, and what if their luck changed? What if they were caught in a battle they could not win? Or what if they found no wormholes or alien technology to boost them on their way? He didn't want to spend thirty-five years watching and worrying as that small blip crawled through the immensity of space. Far better to re-enter stasis and let them wake him when... if... Voyager made it home with Alex, as long as Alex, and Janeway, would agree to let Alex sleep away the rest of their journey too.

Mulder sighed. After only a few days, he knew it was too early to make such a decision. Also, if he had partial control of this Foundation, and all its resources, then he might be able to turn its attention to finding a way of getting Voyager home faster.

Having made that decision, Mulder looked across at Seaton.

"Admiral Paris said there would be one more communications window open to Voyager in a few days time. It may be selfish but I want another face-to-face with Alex... and then I want a fast ship to take me to Vulcan."

-ooOOoo-

 **Commander Chakotay's Office  
USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

Now that his identity had been uncovered, Alex was not surprised to receive an order from Commander Chakotay to report to his office. He paused outside the door and then raised his hand to press his fingers against a touch plate. After a moment the door slid open and Alex stepped into the office area to find both Chakotay and Tuvok waiting for him.

"Mr. Krycek. Please... take a seat."

Chakotay indicated towards the chair next to Tuvok, and Alex sat down slowly. His sixth sense told him that there was more to this meeting than just a basic interview following that identification.

When he left the office fifteen minutes later, he was fingering the 'Ensign' pip on his collar and clutching a datapad that outlined his new duties, both effective immediately. Tuvok had given him one hour to acquaint himself with the details held on the datapad before he was to report back for the first of his new assignments.

Once out of sight of the First Officer's quarters, Alex stopped and leaned against the gently curving wall of the corridor. He closed his eyes in a mixture of relief and confusion, feeling some of the weight of the past few weeks lift from his shoulders even as a new sense of responsibility settled there. He knew there would be a few who would greet his promotion with pleasure but many more who might feel disgruntled that he had been ushered into the higher ranks ahead of them.

Alex tightened his lips and frowned. Since when had he ever done anything that had not earned him enemies as well as friends? Though he knew there was one enemy on board who would be furious at his meteoric rise through the ranks from lowly crewman to Ensign in a single step.

Alex mulled over the words of Chakotay, having had many of his questions answered even before they could fall from his lips. If this had been any ship other than Voyager then he would not have been made even a lowly crewman, but circumstances had driven them to change the rules. Here, they respected the ranking of the people on board from their former lives so the Captain of the Maquis had become First Officer, his officers given equal ranking with their Starfleet counterparts, and former Starfleet Officers had regained their lost ranks.

The commanders of Voyager: Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, had seen him and the other survivors from the Colonist ship no differently... and hence, once he had been identified as a leader of the Human Resistance, they had unilaterally agreed to his rise to an officer rank. They had also indicated that once he had fully adapted to this new century, and had become fully versed in Starfleet protocol, then he would be promoted to Lieutenant.

Alex fingered the pip again. He could have refused to accept the rank. He could have insisted on being treated no differently than Seven of Nine, who held no rank and yet was still part of the command structure of the ship. But he had wanted to belong.

"Alex!" Alex looked up to see Tom Paris walking towards him with a big smile plastered over his handsome face. "I just heard. Congratulations."

He slapped Alex on the shoulder and steered him towards the elevator, asking for the Mess Hall. They stepped off moments later and entered the Mess to find Harry and B'Elanna already seated nearby. A moment's doubt at finding himself on equal ranking faded at the sincere congratulations from Harry and, once more, Alex had to acknowledge his luck in having a friend like Harry Kim, who could be so generous.

For the first time, he no longer felt ill ease being with this group for much of the subterfuge that had left him guarded and uncomfortable no longer had any relevance. They knew who he was and what he had once been -- not just the heroic stuff but the necessary evils too -- and no one seemed to be holding those against him.

"So... what has Tuvok got planned for you?" Tom grinned mischievously; as if he was already aware of what duties Alex would be filling.

"Maybe you could tell me?" Alex raised one eyebrow, cocking his head slightly, and earned a laugh from B'Elanna.

"He's got you there, Flyboy," crowed B'Elanna.

Alex felt a twitch of his own smile at the chagrined expression on Tom's face, but he was feeling more than generous today. He activated the datapad and quickly perused the contents, both eyebrows rising at the clarity of the orders contained within. Although he had learned about the various major races that constituted the Federation -- and Voyager in particular -- he had not been exposed to Vulcan logic before.

Alex grinned. He knew it often seemed to Mulder that he acted highly irrational, perhaps overly emotional on occasion, but that was mostly because Mulder had not been aware of the whole picture. Irrational and emotional behavior had its place in fooling an enemy, especially if carried out with unemotional detachment. It made the enemy believe they had control of a situation, that they had the upper hand, right up until he sprang the trap that slaughtered them.

The old men of the Consortium had learned that lesson too late, walking unwittingly to their fate at El Rico, with their deaths dealing a major blow to the Colonist plans.

In truth, Mulder had been the one person who could wring a truly emotional response from him, driving him crazy long before they became lovers. He was also the only person who had ever slipped through the barrier Alex had erected to protect his hidden emotions, the same barrier that the Englishman had admired -- and strengthened -- in him. It was this barrier that had allowed him to order people to their deaths: to kill others who threatened humanity's fight for the future, and to arrange the massacre at El Rico even knowing that innocent children would be caught in the same trap.

The needs of the many...

Alex smiled grimly, and then he shared some of the details with his new friends. He was going to enjoy working with Tuvok.

-ooOOoo-

Jarvis cursed loudly as he read the latest ship's news, his dark eyes filled with self-righteous anger.

"Ensign? Ensign!! What right had they to make *him* an ensign? I've been on this stinking ship for over six years and what have I got to show for it? Nothing. Traitors and Maquis get promoted but not the honest-to-goodness Starfleet crew. Oh no. Clean the manifolds, inspect the Jefferies... swab the damned floors of Engineering for the high and mighty queen of the Warp Core. Klingon bitch..."

Marita left Jarvis to rant and rave, turning her own cold thoughts inwards as she considered the new position Krycek held on board the ship. She knew why he had yet to denounce her. He had no evidence to back up his claim that she, Marita Covarrubias, currently known as Crewman Hannah Mackson, had been responsible for atrocities performed in the name of the Consortium -- and the Colonists they had willingly obeyed.

But how long could she rely on that?

She knew she had covered her tracks well, even as Marita Covarrubias, but Krycek was no slouch in discovering hidden information. That was why he had been such a formidable enemy: that and his ability to gain the trust of others, infiltrating into the higher echelons until he was well placed to obtain the information that would bring about its downfall.

She had to admire him for those skills though she knew it was different this time.

This time he had no plans -- or need -- to bring down the commanders of Voyager. This time he was one of *them*, openly, without any hidden agenda, knowing that he needed no more subterfuge. They had promoted him for what he had been: the previously unrealized leader of the Human Resistance.

She barked out a small laugh at herself. Even she had been fooled by him; believing him to be no more than a mercenary looking for power and position -- just as she had. Had Spender known at the end? Had he confronted Krycek on the mothership in full knowledge of what creature he had cornered and captured? Or had that cancerous old man still been too wrapped up in his sordid obsession for the beautiful Alex Krycek to even consider that he might be the Colonists' biggest threat?

She smirked, recalling the way Spender would fawn over Alex; touching him, eating him with his rheumy eyes and with a hunger that a dozen look-a-likes could not assuage. Oh yes, she knew all about the Krycek look-a-likes that lined the Colonist ships having failed to be what they could never be: Alex Krycek.

She laid her arm on her fuming accomplice, schooling her features to the right mix of sympathy and anger.

"I know, my love. He has taken what should have been rightly yours. A man like you should never have been left to waste their potential in such menial tasks... but it is all Tuvok's doing. He is the one who is keeping you in such a lowly position." She simpered, and leaned in close. "But I have a plan to rid us of both our enemies--"

"What is it? When--?"

She raised a finger to his lips, shushing him, and then raked one perfectly sculptured fingernail across those lips before leaning in to kiss away the pain.

"Soon. Very, very soon."

-ooOOoo-

 **San Francisco,  
Earth**

With great dismay, Mulder sighed when he learned that the final opportunity to contact Voyager -- and Alex -- this time around would last but a few minutes. Barely enough time to send all the messages gathered for the crew of Voyager, and no time to waste on the heavier programming of holographic messages. This last batch would be voice only but at least Mulder had a copy of those few seconds they had shared courtesy of Starfleet -- and the Foundation -- staring at each other across time and space.

He didn't truly need a physical copy, as he could still see every second played out in his memory, but this way he had something he could touch, even if it was only the hardness of a screen. He smiled softly in remembrance of the wide green eyes staring back at him in shock. Although Alex had awoken from his deep sleep a few weeks ago he would have been forced to accept Mulder's death immediately, if only because of the centuries that had passed since that fateful mission. In comparison, Mulder had never accepted Alex's loss, not even during the long months that followed his disappearance and before he entered the cryogenic facility. He had known that it would only be a matter of time until they found each other again.

Only a matter of time... and now of space too. A matter of time and space. Too much space... and if Voyager could not find a faster route home then it would be too much time as well.

"We could leave immediately for Vulcan. Any message Alex sends will be sent onwards to the ship."

Mulder looked across at Seaton, seeing the compassion in the blue eyes.

"No. I want to stay here until the communications window had passed... just in case."

Seaton stared hard at him for a moment but Mulder looked away, his decision made. He would never forgive himself if he hastened away from Earth only to discover that a last minute miracle would have allowed him the chance to see and speak with Alex once more. Plus, it gave him extra time to consider what he would do once he reached Vulcan.

With night drawing in, and his energy levels still depleted from his long hibernation, Mulder said goodnight and climbed into his large and lonely bed. As always, he slept fitfully, having never slept particularly well except for those times when he was lying next to his lover. Dreams invaded his sleep, adding to his restlessness, dreams of the past, and dreams of Alex.

-ooOOoo-

Back on Voyager, Alex slept fitfully too as his subconscious replayed scenes from a shared past...

...he realized it would take only a single cutting remark to destroy what they had found together but he couldn't help feeling angry with Mulder. Alex turned away, needing to gather his thoughts before he blurted out something totally crass. The silence stretched between them as his memory of the last few weeks played and replayed in his mind... over and over like a VCR set on loop.

Had it only been a few weeks since he awoke, disorientated, in a semi-familiar place only to find Mulder's expressive eyes above him? Mulder's relief that he was still alive: seeing his joy reflected in chameleon eyes when he discovered Alex was also whole again had submerged the beloved monotone. Instead Alex had found lightness in his lover's voice as they teased each other, and huskiness as they made love.

Time flowed onwards...

Now he was adjusting again; learning how to use the renewed flesh and bone of his left arm for more than just leverage; relearning the intricacies of finger movement. His dream smile broadened as he recalled some of the more interesting and enjoyable sessions as his practicing fingers tweaked, caressed and encircled warm willing flesh; Mulder's warm and willing flesh.

Somehow he'd gone from starving to having a feast laid out before him. He'd gone from impersonal motel rooms to Mulder's bedroom: from being a one-armed fugitive to being a whole and free person...from a lonely man to a loving partner. And all in the space of a few weeks.

His thoughts turned to the Well-Manicured Man. His life had changed when he decided to throw in his lot with the enigmatic Englishman. Everything he had gained since then came back to that one decision, made in the dankness of a Russian freighter, to obey an old man dressed in immaculate attire and speaking with a clipped British accent. He owed everything to the Englishman -- even Mulder.

At the time he had wondered why. He had wanted to know what the man had seen in him that he could be so willing to go out on a limb for him, and to bring him under his protective wing. He had given Alex renewed purpose; had shown him the way to bring down the Consortium, and the way to fight back against the Colonists who would destroy humanity.

Alex sighed. When it truly counted... when the man had needed him in return... he had not been there. He let him down, and he wondered what divine retribution the Englishman would call down upon him for his ill-timed absence.

The mattress shifted as Mulder began to rise and Alex berated himself for his procrastination. He knew he should be dealing with Mulder rather than mulling over a past he could not change.

"I don't blame you," he whispered hoarsely...

-ooOOoo-

Mulder groaned as his dream flowed on...

"...I don't blame you..."

In his dream he turned to face his lover; a small light of hope flickering in his eyes at the hoarse whisper. When Alex had remained silent for so long he had assumed it was because he had nothing left to say to him. Mulder had been prepared to leave this room -- this man -- even though it cut him up inside to do so, unable to bear the weight of the guilt lying so heavily upon his shoulders.

"Who... do you blame?" He could hear the tremor in his voice as he spoke, wanting desperately to believe that Alex could forgive him.

"Him... Cancerman."

Alex extended his open arms to Mulder; his meaning so very clear and, without hesitation, Mulder fell into those arms, wrapping his own around the slightly broader frame. His senses were overwhelmed, once more, by the power of the body in his arms. The beat of a strong heart filled his hearing and thrummed through their close-pressed bodies. Leather, fresh sweat and some other indefinable scent that was uniquely Alex sent his body soaring in want, and he could not help but flick out his tongue to taste the flesh lying beneath his mouth, tasting that uniqueness. The vibration from softly spoken words thrummed against his cheek as Alex continued on.

"Looks like that alien bastard did more than just his job. I'd come across him a few times and he never even turned his head in my direction... and yet... when he found me at the hotel he was... like a thing possessed. He said he'd discovered 'human pleasure'. Never occurred to me where... until now..."

-ooOOoo-

"...until now..."

Alex felt Mulder stiffen in his arms and he pulled him tight against his shoulder. He knew how the Bounty Hunter had tricked Mulder into giving away his secret location, and he didn't want to see Mulder's eyes when he told him what had happened when the Bounty Hunter found him. He was afraid to see his lover pull away -- not in disgust but in guilt -- because he knew Mulder would blame himself for what happened to him.

"He raped me."

He remembered the motel door splintering, the large bulk of the alien bounty hunter leaping through, capturing him before he could raise the ever present gun. He shuddered in memory of the thick arms that bound his own to his chest in bands of steel: the mouth that plundered his before the final assault upon his body.

Mulder started to struggle; tried to pull out of his embrace but Alex held him firmly against his chest and waited until he gave up. He continued softly.

"It wasn't your fault."

"How can you say that? I told him where to find you."

"You thought he *was* me. You couldn't have known otherwise."

-ooOOoo-

"...you couldn't have known otherwise..."

Mulder slumped back and Alex loosened his grip as he recalled the late night visitor to his motel room while Alex was on the run from Cancerman. He had wanted to see Alex so bad; had wanted to touch him, to hold him, to prove that he was still alive and safe from that obsessed old man.

His hands had traced over familiar contours, his ears had heard the soft, desire-roughened voice, and his body had reacted instinctively.

"They say hindsight is 20/20. All the clues were there; the roughness, the words..." Mulder chuckled bitterly. "I have this... dream. Teasing you until you begged... and then fucking you so hard you screamed. I wanted to hear you yell my name; wanted to hear you tell me how good it was with me."

Alex didn't stop him from pulling away completely this time.

"Why are you so quiet when we... Why can't you let go when you're with me?"

"Maybe I'm a little shy."

Mulder strained to hear the softly spoken words.

"I don't want you to be shy with me, Alex. I would never hurt you... not knowingly." His fingers pushed back that errant lock of mahogany hair that had tumbled across Alex's face. "Hard to believe you, of all people, could be shy."

Mulder drifted off as his dream thoughts traveled to all the moments they had shared both before and since discovering their newfound intimacy. He'd always assumed Alex's coyness about being seen naked stemmed from his fear of finding abhorrence on a lover's face when they saw the cruel truncation of his arm.

In this strange dream Mulder realized that he had never once seen Alex naked when they were partnered together in the FBI. In the gym Alex would wear a tee shirt and shorts, and he always took advantage of the private shower stalls rather than the communal ones. He never took to the swimming pool either, at least, not when anyone else was around. When they had shared a hotel room on those few occasions, Alex had stayed covered up all the time, even sleeping in tee shirt and boxers.

The first time Mulder had ever seen him completely naked was that night in the hotel room just after they had become lovers, when he had persuaded Alex to let him remove his clothing.

His eyes had mapped the bare chest with its dusky pink nipples and light smattering of dark brown hair and he had seen nothing to be ashamed of... except for one small scar just to the side of the right nipple. But it was an old scar that had almost faded away... small and round like a... like a cigarette burn...

Mulder moaned loudly, his mind's eye seeing the red, burning tip of a cigarette grow brighter: slowly making out the lined features of the man inhaling the nicotine before exhaling a plume of blue/gray smoke. He watched, as the cigarette remained poised between those fingers, lowering away from the seamed lips. The stench of burning flesh filled the air around Mulder and he turned to the dream lover held in his arms, seeing the form waver into the familiar bulk of the Bounty Hunter as his nightmare came full circle.

With a cry, Mulder sat up, the lights brightening fractionally as if programmed to react to any distress of the sleeper. He called for them to brighten half as much again so he could make out every corner of the deeply shadowed room, flopping back onto the bed in relief when he found he was alone in an otherwise empty room.

Why had he dreamed of the Bounty Hunter now? That terrible incident had taken place almost two years ago, relatively speaking, and after the 'confrontation' with Alex, any nightmares had faded into oblivion under Alex's gentle reassurance... or so he had thought.

"Computer. Time."

"04:08 hours."

Four o'clock in the morning. Mulder sighed as he eased back the covers and stepped from the bed. He wandered across the room to the door, which swished open before him, then looked out into the darkened living area. Dominating the room was a plasma screen entertainment system and Mulder activated it, sinking back onto the strangely comfortable couch as the screen flickered from channel to channel at his command. Eventually he found something reassuringly familiar in adult entertainment. He let the flickering of the screen, the banality of the musak, and the soft grunts and groans of pseudo-pleasure lull him back to sleep. Just as it had done in the past, before he had been granted the wonderful reality of having Alex in his arms -- and in his bed.

-ooOOoo-

 **USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

Alex woke with a start, feeling the trickle of cold sweat on his body. He brushed aside a strand of sweat-dampened hair from where it had become plastered to his forehead and called, huskily, for quarter lights. The room brightened immediately, revealing no trace of the dark shadow that had leaped out at him within his dream.

He lowered his head onto his drawn up knees, closing his eyes in strange relief. The dream had been so vivid, recalling that moment when the Bounty Hunter had finally caught up with him... and raped him before taking him to Spender.

Why?

He hadn't thought about that incident in more than a year before he was put in stasis, and even the nightmares had vanished after a time; banished by the security he felt in Mulder's arms.

Why had that particular nightmare come back to haunt him now? Was it a warning? A premonition of dark things to come?

"Computer. Time."

"04:08 hours," came the soft feminine response from the computer.

He rubbed a hand over his damp hair and pushed aside the light coverlet, stretching uneasily before padding to the small bathroom, only too grateful that his promotion had also earned him his own quarters. Otherwise he would have had to explain yet another nightmare away to poor Harry.

The sonic shower was no replacement for the feel of warm water flowing over his skin, but at least it was stripping off the layer of cold sweat that clung to him so tenaciously. Even his hair started to feel fluffier under his questing hand as the sonic beams caressed each individual strand of hair until clean.

"Sonic off."

Alex stepped out of the small cubicle and stared into the mirror, almost disappointed that he did not need to wipe away a layer of steam and condensation from its bright surface. He stared into his green eyes, seeing the dark circles of fatigue that slowly disappeared as he looked on.

He knew, before ever stepping foot on the Hawaiian mothership, that he had healing abilities, as he had used them to save Mulder's life during his earlier rescue from the Tunisian mothership. But something was different now. Since being brought out of stasis he had felt a difference within his body, feeling more alive now than ever before. His co-ordination skills and intellect had always been above average but over these past weeks on board Voyager those skills -- both mental and physical -- had grown exponentially.

He knew it was not just in his imagination, as Tom Paris had noticed and remarked upon it too.

Whatever had happened to him after Spender sealed him inside that unit must have been responsible. Perhaps the fight to drive off the alien virus invading his body had triggered this change... but if that was the case then he ought to have noticed a difference after being given the vaccine following his exposure to the virus in Tunisia.

Was it possible that something else could have triggered these changes? The ship had been drifting around a decaying star for centuries. Perhaps emissions from the dying star had affected him, or another spatial anomaly, a passing comet for instance... or maybe it was time itself that had brought about these changes.

No... again, time had no meaning while he was in stasis otherwise he would have been in perfect health when they removed him from the capsule rather than still torn open by bullets and bruised by fists.

Only one 'person' was in a position to find answers to his questions and, though he hated the idea of subjecting himself to experimentation, he did trust the Doctor. He recalled the request he had received from the Doctor only a few hours earlier. Once he had made the decision to agree to that request -- as long as the Doctor was willing to share the results with him -- Alex felt some of the fear and uncertainty slip away, deciding he would contact the Doctor before the start of his duty shift.

He climbed back into his bed, pulling the coverlet back over his naked body, and let thoughts of Mulder replace the darker images from his nightmare. Within moments he was asleep, a smile curving his lips as he snuggled into his dream lover's warm embrace.

-ooOOoo-

 **One Week Earlier  
The Temple of Fal Tor Reh  
Vulcan**

The resonating sound of a deep toned gong echoed through the jagged peaks, it's tone slightly higher in the thinner, hotter atmosphere of the mountains that edged onto Vulcan's Forge. Twin suns rose majestically as if summoned by the gong, illuminating the peaks before spreading fingers of light across the red dusty ground.

The gong resonated once more through the high peaks of red-tinged granite but the force screen muted it across the seemingly open windows of one of the temple's inner gardens. Here, in stark contrast to the desolate beauty of the red desert that stretched out below and as far as the naked eye could see, was lushness and beauty.

A single figure, robed in the white of a recluse, sat contemplating the beauty surrounding them; their features lost within the depths of the hood that protected them from the burning rays of the twin suns. They looked up as their silent morning ritual was broken by the approach of another, recognizing the solemn yet still serene features of a long time companion.

"The Sleeper has awoken."

Shock and pleasure rippled through the recluse at these words, drawing a raised eyebrow from the companion as the unfamiliar emotions rolled over him. The Guardian rose, and with lighter steps than used in many a year, followed the companion through the ancient temple, passing through a doorway into a highly modern, technologically advanced office area where the air was maintained at a humidity, density and temperature still preferred even after all these centuries.

The joy of the awakening was short-lived, as the truth became known. Alex Krycek had been found alive -- just as the Sleeper had insisted he would be all those centuries earlier -- but Alex was decades away from Earth, from Fox Mulder, and crossing dangerous territory that was the domain of the Borg.

New decisions had to be made on behalf of Mulder -- and on behalf of the Foundation that had been created to protect him. However, some of those decisions required patience... but this particular guardian was no stranger to waiting.

A few days later, a simple message traveled through space between Vulcan and Earth in response to a single code word: Hegal421013. To all intents and purposes, the message appeared to have come from the High Council on Vulcan, and only a select few knew that the true source was the Temple at Fal Tor Reh.

The Guardian listened to footsteps echoing along the stone-floored corridor with patience borne out of years of waiting.

"He's coming here?"

"Yes... once the final communications window to Voyager has closed." The Companion raised an eyebrow. "But he will not discover the temple unless he is made aware of its presence."

"Oh... don't underestimate Mulder. He always did have this way of discovering the existence of things other people were trying to hide." The Guardian sighed as the past came flooding back. "When he asks to see the Guardians of the Foundation, then he should be brought here. I assume all other security arrangements are in place. We cannot take any risks... not after the incident."

The Companion nodded and turned away, leaving the Guardian alone with the 'absorbed' memories of a not so distant past...

-ooOOoo-

 **Eighty-Three Years Earlier  
Cryogenics Facility  
Ten miles outside Ft. Worth, Texas**

Director Burrows made his daily check of the cryogenic units, pausing for a moment in front of the most important: Unit 1013. Inside he could make out the handsome face of the Sleeper, a man who had chosen to enter this facility only a few months after the end of the Silent War. He had slept through the Eugenics War that followed only a scant few decades later as ex-Consortium scientists unleashed the results of their genetic experiments upon an unsuspecting world.

Despite their assumed superiority, the genetically enhanced humans lost the war and many chose to go into exile rather than accept subjugation by normal humans. Several sleeper ships had left the Earth at that time, but all had now been accounted for, including that of Khan, the leader of the genetically enhanced humans.

The Eugenics War had left the Earth in ruins, with many people struggling to survive but one man had a dream, and with the last of Earth's resources he pushed towards the stars. Zefram Cochrane's first warp experiment not only was a personal success but the attempt was witnessed by another space-faring race. That race had a directive that forbid members from making contact with any pre-warp civilization, but Cochran's maiden flight brought the people of Earth across that invisible line into a race capable of attaining space travel.

And so First 'official' Contact was made... with the Vulcan people.

In the two centuries that followed, Earth formed an alliance with other races in the sector. Like the United Nations that had resided on Earth back in the Sleeper's time, the Federation of Planets was born with Starfleet created to act as its military wing.

It seemed amazing that, more than two and half centuries after this man chose to freeze himself, the truth that he had driven so hard to reveal -- that we were not alone -- was now an everyday acceptance. One only had to turn on the news, or even walk down the concourse in the larger cities, to see Andorians, Tellarites, Vulcans, and even the occasional Klingon -- as well as a number of other races.

There had been debates recently, on whether it was time to awaken the Sleeper and let him see this new world. From what Burrows had seen in the records pertaining to this most important sleeper, these debates tended to happen once or twice a century, as some well-meaning technician argued the right of keeping a perfectly normal, perfectly healthy human in stasis with no wake-up call archived.

Each time, the technician in question found a transfer request issued on their behalf to take them as far away from the facility as possible... just in case they decided to make a decision for the Sleeper. As far as Burrows knew, the only times that the Sleeper had ever come even part way to waking was when a decision was made to move him to a newer cryogenic unit as technology improved and fear for the reliability of his older unit increased.

Burrows stepped back into the main aisle between the cryogenic chambers, looking back at that single important unit set back into the deepest corner. Next to it were five ultra-modern chambers, newly installed and with four already occupied.

Dr. Sandrova had put in a request to have Sleeper 1013 moved to the empty chamber and, against his personal recommendation, the request had been approved. In truth, as far as the staff was concerned, Sleeper 1013 had already been moved into the new unit -- two weeks earlier -- but Burrows had found one reason after another to delay the move in the belief that it was not to the Sleeper's advantage. He had spent the time in debate with the unseen benefactors of the facility... the Guardians of the Foundation... but tomorrow he would oversee the transfer.

It would be strange not to visit Sleeper 1013 in the small recess, partially hidden from view of the main aisle and, secretly, he wished the Guardians had agreed to merely upgrading the cryogenic unit rather than moving the Sleeper altogether.

With a final sigh, he moved along the aisle, intending to get a good night's rest... and it was then that the anomaly struck him. The bank of five units were all displaying the right configuration of indicators, and the readings on the monitors had shown not even the smallest discrepancy... but the face plates had been opaque with condensation... On the *inside*?

Burrows turned quickly and strode back to the first of the occupied units, silently praying that his mind was playing tricks on him. He swiped at the faceplate with his hand and gasped, as it remained opaque, confirming his suspicion. In two strides, Burrows reached the alarm and slapped it hard, barely aware of the discordant whoop and flashing lights that filled the air around him.

Technicians came racing from all directions but Burrows needed no one to tell him the terrible truth... that the four humans inside the occupied units were already dead.

A report was sent to Vulcan within two hours of his discovery. With no evidence to suggest otherwise, the deaths were attributed to faulty programming, but Burrows suspected foul play. Despite the units showing no deviation -- not even within the acceptable parameters for sustaining the lives of the four individuals -- they had died almost a week earlier, the condensation formed by gases released from their slowly decaying bodies.

If Sleeper 1013 had been moved there when first ordered, then he would have been victim number five.

As an exceptional programmer, Burrows spent the next few months poring over every line of code and found nothing amiss. He realized, with shock, that this bank of cryogenic units had been deliberately set up to fail exactly one week after installation... and one week after Sleeper 1013 should have been transferred into one of them.

-ooOOoo-

When Burrows relayed that information to the Guardians of the Foundation on Vulcan, he had no idea that he would be setting in motion a major hunt that started with Dr. Sandrova. It took months to track down Sandrova after she slipped away from Earth during Burrows' investigation into the coding. They caught up with her as she tried to make her way through the Bajoran wormhole leading into the Gamma Quadrant.

Under forced mind meld she revealed the name of her associate, and through him the trail led halfway across the Alpha Quadrant before it went cold.

All the Guardians knew for certain was that an attempt had been made on the Sleeper's life, and only one race would be interested in making that attempt; the same race that Mulder had driven from the Earth during the Silent War... the Colonists.

The Guardian sighed as the 'absorbed' memory played out, retrieved from Burrows by a mind meld, and transferred to the Guardian by the same method.

Several of the Guardians suggested it would be logical to have the Sleeper brought to Vulcan, as his whereabouts had been compromised on Earth but Mulder had been very specific when he entered the facility. It was argued that he could not have been cognizant of the events that would take place less that a century later and, therefore, his living will had no relevance.

No agreement could be reached and so he was left to carry on in his dreamless sleep while the security around the facility was tightened.

However, everything had changed now that he was awake... and it would be his choice to leave Earth for Vulcan, seeking the answers to new questions. However, any journey through space could be hazardous -- especially if there was an enemy waiting for an opportunity to strike. All the Guardians could do was provide a fast and secure ship for the journey... but remain vigilant in case of attack.

-ooOOoo-

 **San Francisco  
Earth**

Mulder paced the outer office of Admiral Paris but, despite several heated requests, Admiral Paris refused to grant him a meeting. He glanced across at a chronometer, knowing that the communications window would open in a few moments, and twisted as the door slid open to reveal the white-haired Admiral.

"Mr. Mulder," the Admiral held up one hand to forestall the tirade he expected. "I do understand your reason for being here but nothing has changed. I've verified with Lt. Barclay that this window will be of eighty-four seconds duration *only*. Everything we have will be going in tight data packages. No holographic images, no face-to-face conversations even between myself and Captain Janeway." He sighed, his expression showing his true regret. "I'm sorry... but there will be other opportunities. They *are* becoming more frequent now we have found a way to send messages over such a great distance."

Paris indicated towards a chair in his office and, despite the bitter disappointment resulting from Paris's words, Mulder accepted as graciously as possible.

"I can assure you that your message will be sent immediately after Starfleet business to greatly improve on its chances of reaching Mr. Krycek. That may not seem much of a concession but you have to remember, Mr. Mulder, that although over three centuries have passed for you in real time, you have spent only a short time without your loved one -- relatively speaking. Whereas the friends and family of those on Voyager suffered several years of loss before contact was re-established -- including myself and my wife."

Mulder felt a moment of guilt. Scully used to berate him over his single-mindedness: losing the bigger picture as he narrowed his focus onto a single frame. It hadn't really occurred to him that others might have just as great a need to see their loved ones.

"I do appreciate all your help, Admiral."

Paris's aide, Peterson, stepped into the office, catching the Admiral's attention.

"Sir, messages have been sent and received. Permission to distribute personal messages."

"Granted."

"Mr. Mulder. There is a message for you."

Peterson stepped forward and handed a datapad to Mulder. Mulder stared at the small pad that looked so similar to the small hand held computers of his day except these were far more advanced. He caressed the surface of the tiny screen, knowing it would fill with Alex's words as soon as he gave it the order to commence playback.

Mulder cleared his throat and looked up, nodding his thanks to Peterson.

"Looks like I have a message to read... and then a ship to catch."

"I hope it is welcome news," Paris stood up to accept his hand, "And I wish you a safe journey."

"Thank you, Admiral."

With a glance at his constant companion, Seaton, Mulder left the Admiral's office and headed straight to the transporter room. He looked on as the Starfleet officer ahead of him walked onto the strange platform and then disintegrated before Mulder's eyes.

"Sir?"

The Transporter Operator had his hand held out and Seaton placed a small datapad into it that gave the co-ordinates required. Mulder followed Seaton onto the strange platform and took a deep breath. His eyes fell on Seaton, and he nodded in reassurance, gripping his own datapad containing Alex's precious words even more tightly as he looked back to the Operator.

Seaton gave a single word command, "Energize", and the world seemed to dissolve around him, his stomach lurching momentarily, and then the world reformed around him. Two Starfleet officers stood beside the open door; one Human, one Vulcan.

"Mr. Mulder, Mr. Seaton... I am Captain S'Tek, and this is my First Officer, Commander Sears. Welcome to the USS Atlanta."

-ooOOoo-

 **Two Days Later  
USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

"Sensors indicate a class M planet. Heavy concentrations of amino acids all within acceptable parameters."

"Any coffee on that planet?" asked Chakotay with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

Janeway grinned, relishing the camaraderie that had turned her love of real coffee into a playful standing joke among her crew.

"If there's any coffee down there, Commander, then we'd better find it."

Chakotay grinned back and then the playfulness seeped away as he concentrated on the business at hand.

"Any sentient life forms, Mr. Tuvok?"

"Pre-warp settlements predominantly situated in a band above the equator in the Northern Hemisphere. The Southern Hemisphere is mostly desert due to the tilt of the planetary axis placing it closest to the binary stars at the center of the system. The far Northern Hemisphere is tundra."

"Hmmm..." Janeway leaned forward thoughtfully, chin cupped in her hand, "Any beam down co-ordinates away from the indigenous population?"

"There are several large expanses of forest and of mountainous regions that might suit our purposes."

"Then it's settled. Mr. Chakotay, Mr. Tuvok, I'll leave the necessary arrangements to you."

Janeway's thoughts were already too far removed to hear their response as she thought of the ship and its needs. Taking on board sixty-four new crewmembers had placed an additional strain on their already limited resources, and planets capable of providing them with a fresh food and other essential minerals were few and far between. They could not afford to miss this opportunity to gather supplies, though she would have ordered Voyager onwards if there had been a great risk of being spotted by the sentient race indigenous to the planet. No contact with pre-warp civilizations was the Prime Directive of the Federation, and one she would do her utmost to keep even if it meant the Voyager crew living off of c-rations for the remainder of their journey home.

She knew Tuvok would select several areas devoid of any sentient life, nonetheless, Janeway knew it would still be risky staying in one area for too long, or orbiting the planet for longer than necessary. However, she trusted both Tuvok and Chakotay to assemble sufficient foraging teams within three shifts so they could make the maximum use of the limited time to collect as much raw material as possible... without harming the planet or destroying its natural beauty.

She sighed, recalling images of planets strip-mined by races outside of the Federation. The Ferengi, the Cardassians, and the Romulans were just a few of the races that had no Prime Directive. They enslaved the populations of pre-warp planets and then, like a plague of locusts, they stripped each planet of anything of value, leaving behind barren worlds that could barely sustain what remained of the indigenous life forms.

With coffee now uppermost in her mind, Janeway passed control over to Chakotay temporarily and headed for her Ready Room. They would reach the planet in less than two hours at current speed and everything would have to be in place by then.

As she ordered up a mug of coffee from the replicator, Janeway let her thoughts travel through the extensive organization required, but she knew the task was safe in her officers' hands. She returned to the bridge, taking back the con so Chakotay could concentrate on the task ahead.

-ooOOoo-

Tuvok contacted the heads of all departments on board Voyager requesting an immediate update of their requisition lists. Some departments, such as Engineering, kept their requirements up to date as a matter of course, just in case Voyager should pass close to a nebula or other spatial anomaly that might provide some of the essential materials needed to keep the ship running. However, other departments were not quite so proactive, due to their lower ranking on board Voyager.

He gave them all one hour and, in the interim, set Seven of Nine and Harry Kim the task of locating accessible deposits of essential metals and minerals on the planet.

Although not the most essential in terms of the operation of the ship, the largest requirement would be providing a diversity of edible items to supplement the diet on board Voyager. Tuvok had long ago accepted that such a simple thing as a change in taste and texture could have a high -- and mostly positive -- impact on the morale of the crew.

There had been grumbling in the Mess over recent weeks as the same basic food was served up for every meal to those who had used up their meager replicator rations. However, if early readings from the planet could be relied upon, then there would be a change of menu shortly -- and extra replicator rations available for the crew.

He looked up from his bridge station and saw that Chakotay was busy organizing the personnel required for the foraging teams. Practically every non-essential crewmember would be rotated onto the teams to gather the necessary supplies, accompanied by more experienced crew. Under normal circumstances, this would be a monumental task but, after all these years lost in the Delta Quadrant -- and a lifetime away from Federation Supply Depots --neither Tuvok nor Chakotay were inexperienced in this particular task.

Within half an hour, preliminary team members had been set up, with the final team configuration to be decided upon once Seven of Nine and Harry Kim had delivered the co-ordinates for each resource requirement.

With a few commands, he sent the latest information to Chakotay, and made a personal request for certain crew to be attached to the team he would lead planetside. Chakotay's head rose fractionally as he received the message, and then he turned and gave Tuvok a curious look but Tuvok merely raised one eyebrow. He gave a nod as Chakotay silently acknowledged -- and agreed to -- his request.

-ooOOoo-

Alex glanced around the transporter room, partly excited by the adventure ahead, but mostly uneasy. B'Elanna had given him a basic engineer's description of how the transporter converted a body to its molecular pattern and then sent that pattern to the destination where it would be rebuilt. Perhaps it was the Russian in him that had an innate pessimism attached to such things, dwelling on all the things that could go wrong. Recalling old science fiction movies like 'The Fly' only increased his natural reserve for things he knew nothing about. However, as Harry pointed out, he'd already been through a transporter once without a detrimental effect -- when they retrieved him from the Colonist mothership.

Still, he felt uneasy about the process, aware that he had a unique body chemistry that had altered even more since his encapsulation on board the mothership. Part of him wondered if the second exposure to the Colonist virus had caused this increase in his self-healing ability and increased mental agility... but another part worried that it had been the transporter that had affected him.

Tuvok entered, one eyebrow rising in silent question. Realizing that he was probably giving off waves of dark emotions, Alex schooled his thoughts and expression, smiling wryly at the small nod of approval that came from Tuvok.

At first, Alex had wondered why he always felt like a small child when in the Vulcan's presence... and then he discovered that Tuvok was old enough to be his grandfather. He smiled wryly. In some ways, the Vulcan reminded him of his maternal grandfather; a strong, silent man, who had commanded respect, and was given it freely. Alex often wondered what that old man would think of his only daughter's son now. Would the work Alex had done within the Human Resistance have compensated for the mess he had made of his life in those early years? Would his grandfather have been proud of him at the end?

It was impossible to know as the old man had died along with the rest of the Consortium at El Rico. It was another one of those occasions when the needs of the many had outweighed the needs of the few -- or the one in this case. Alex would have liked to have saved his grandfather, for the old man had never been as religiously devoted to the Colonist plan as the First Elder and Spender. He had been one of those walking the razor's edge, and just a small nudge *might* have toppled him onto the side of the Human Resistance, but it was a gamble that Alex could not take. If his grandfather had denounced him then all his work on behalf of the Englishman would have been for nothing. The Colonists would have been forewarned of the attack on El Rico, and the Resistance movement would have been crushed.

Instead, Alex had hardened his heart to what had to be done, abandoning his grandfather to his fate while he went to Fort Marlene. Unfortunately, either the Colonists or the Rebels had beaten him to the alien fetus. Without it, the Resistance could not start its own program to find a way to defeat the Colonists.

Several more teams entered the transporter room, ending his wandering thoughts, and Alex knew that the second transporter room would also be in operation today. The plan was for Voyager to make a swift approach, transport the foraging teams down to the surface, and then retreat behind one of the moons that orbited the planet. This was to reduce the chance of detection from the pre-warp but still fairly advanced race that inhabited the planet.

The door swished open once more and the final two members of his team entered. Alex's determination to keep a firm rein on his emotions shattered instantly as a familiar figure stepped into view. On board Voyager she called herself Hannah Mackson, but Alex knew her intimately as Marita Covarrubias. He saw her start when she saw him, but then her eyes narrowed. His unease grew as he realized he would be on the planet, out of immediate beam-up range from Voyager, with a known enemy masquerading as an ally.

His eyes flicked towards Tuvok, and the intrigue in the often-impenetrable gaze registered on Alex. Tuvok had not brought Marita onto the team by pure coincidence. The Vulcan must have made a connection between Alex and Marita, but how and, more importantly why, remained to be seen.

He stepped up onto the transporter pad and waited, stomach twisting as the operator played with the controls. Tuvok uttered a single command, "Energize", and Alex saw the world fade from view as his body was disassembled and transported to the planet surface.

A lush, green world came into view. The air was fresh and clean, filled with an aromatic fragrance that reminded him of cinnamon and pine. The soft breeze brought the perfume of wild flowers wafting across to him and it was only now that he realized how stale and metallic the air tasted on Voyager. It was then that he noticed that the world had a slightly bluer tinge than Earth and, with wonder; he realized that he was actually standing on another world.

Until this moment, none of it had truly seemed real, like some strange, never-ending dream. He thought of Mulder, recalling that final text message delivered to him two days ago where Mulder had outlined his plan to travel to Vulcan to speak to the Guardians of the Foundation. A holodeck image of Vulcan had shown him a hot planet of red-sand deserts and jagged mountains, and he wondered how Mulder would feel when he stepped out into the thinner atmosphere of that red-tinged planet.

It would be the culmination of his lover's dreams; the final proof that there were other worlds able to support human life. If he closed his eyes, Alex swore he could see the passion igniting his lover as he gazed out across a new world. They ought to have been sharing this together rather than being a lifetime apart.

Further daydreams were broken by Tuvok's dry, business-like tone, and he turned to see a heap of collection containers materialize close by.

"The tricorders have been set to scan for various amino groups. If you locate a source, inform me immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Alex knew that they had all been briefed on what to do on board the ship, so Tuvok's words had been solely to bring their attention back to the task at hand. He picked up one of the collection containers, strapping it over his shoulder, and then he switched on the tricorder. He followed the weak signal, constantly aware of Marita who, strangely enough, had angled away to remain close to the fourth member of their team, Crewman Ivan Modeski.

Within minutes, Alex found a likely source of amino acids and called to Tuvok. He watched as the Vulcan scanned the source carefully before nodding his approval.

"I am certain Mr. Neelix will approve of this particular specimen. Begin collection."

Alex mumbled a "Yes, sir" and started to fill the container with the edible plant he had located.

One hour later, he had filled several containers from different sources of the plant in the area, being careful not to cause too much damage to the environment. He dropped the latest container next to the others and rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead to wipe away the sweat beading there. The twin suns had risen higher into the sky, raising the temperature accordingly.

Coming from a hot world, Tuvok showed no obvious signs of discomfort but Alex could see the other two humans flagging in the heat as they moved back into the denser vegetation side by side. Marita no longer looked so cool and collected and Alex could see that she thought this particular work far beneath her.

'Too bad', he thought maliciously, recalling the way she used to primp and preen in front of the mirror to ensure she looked immaculate. Now, her hair was in disarray, and her manicured fingernails looked broken and dirty. He could see by her jerky actions that she had lost any pretence of being ambivalent to the menial task, unable to see past her own sense of self-worth to notice that Tuvok, third in the chain of command on board Voyager, worked equally hard alongside them. Silently, Alex wondered how much longer it would take before Marita showed her true colors and made demands for higher status.

Although he had been trying to keep a sharp watch, it happened suddenly, though not quite in the manner he had expected. There was a high-pitched whine and then nothing as every creature in the immediate vicinity fell silent. The sound of something large, like a human, came rustling through the undergrowth, and then Modeski came racing out into the clearing, eyes wide with fear. Behind him came Marita with her eyes narrowed in anger and deep-seated resentment. She stopped at the edge of the clearing, raised the phaser that she had taken from the unfortunate Modeski... and fired.

The beam hit him in the center of his back, and he fell forward almost at Alex's feet. Before Tuvok could react, she had the phaser trained on both of them, and her lips curled back into a triumphant smile that boded ill for them.

"Take off your communicators... and your phaser." Alex pulled off the small communications badge attached to his uniform, noticing Tuvok doing the same, and then he watched as Tuvok removed the phaser from his utility belt. "You," she indicated towards Tuvok. "Place them on the container over there." She motioned to the first of the filled containers standing several feet from Tuvok. Tuvok laid both his and Alex's badges onto the container with the phaser as instructed, and then he moved back to Alex's side.

"Thank you for making this so easy for me, Commander Tuvok. I've been waiting for an opportunity such as this ever since that fool, Jarvis, failed to kill dear Alex in that little explosion. Not only have you delivered Alex but also yourself. Now, all that remains is for *another* little incident that, unfortunately, will kill all the members of this team except for frightened little Hannah Mackson."

She ripped at her clothing and hair. "Poor Crewman Modeski, too caught up in the euphoria of being away from Voyager, forces his attentions onto the unwilling Hannah Mackson. Brave *Ensign* Krycek comes to her rescue but the deranged man kills him. Tuvok and Modeski fire upon each other, and both are... disintegrated.

"Your logic is flawed. Commander Chakotay has been made aware of my suspicions regarding--"

"--But he will not be able to prove anything."

She twisted a dial on the phaser to full power; having studied how to use the various hand weapons used on board Voyager, and aimed it directly at Modeski. She fired, and the body glowed for an instant before disintegrating completely, leaving no trace of the unfortunate man behind. With a quick twist she turned down the power to merely kill... and aimed it at Alex.

"Wouldn't want to leave your... *lover*," she spat out the word as if it was dirty, "with no corpse to mourn over."

The sudden beep of the communications badges distracted Marita, and as she turned away, Tuvok shoved at Alex with inhuman strength, sending him into the cover of the nearby trees. He followed swiftly, catching at Alex's arm and propelling him along at breakneck speed through the denser trees surrounding the clearing. Behind him, Alex could hear Marita screaming in frustration. He knew she had no choice but to follow them as she had murdered Modeski in front of Tuvok and, foolishly, revealed her part in the explosion within the Jefferies tube as well. Even if no one took his word over Marita's, they would believe Tuvok.

They slowed down. The heat and the exertion had his lungs burning, and his breathing coming fast and erratic. He tried to bring his breathing back under control, wanting to stop for a moment but Tuvok had other ideas.

"This way. We will circle around and attempt to reach the communicators and phaser."

"No. Marita's... no fool." he tried to work his words around his hard breathing. "She'll have... figured that out... by now and will be... lying in wait."

"We have no choice. Voyager is not due to return for several more hours, and yet they have attempted to communicate with us. Logic dictates that there is an emergency."

Alex wiped away the sweat that was trickling down his forehead and stinging his eyes. Tuvok was right. Voyager would not have made contact unless there was a very good reason as the inhabitants of this world had a level of technology that just might pick up their signals. They worked their way back towards the clearing, taking cover near the edge. Ahead of him, Alex could see the containers still stacked up, and glinting on top of one were the two communications devices.

The phaser was missing.

A flicker of movement caught at him and he touched Tuvok's arm, drawing his attention to the blonde-haired figure crouched on the other side of the clearing. Tuvok indicated for him to move one way why he went in the opposite direction, his intention clear. They would try to sneak up beside Marita from two directions.

As he moved quietly through the undergrowth, Alex heard a new sound. He stopped, the short hairs at the nape of his neck rising as his sixth sense for danger kicked in. Marita leapt out into the clearing, her phaser turned back the way she had come and Alex frowned in confusion... until two creatures, humanoid in appearance, stepped out from the trees from where she had been hidden. They were dressed in black, and their faces were a startling white with odd metallic mechanisms growing out from their skin. Both had a strange apparatus covering one eye, and both had one arm replaced by machinery.

Marita fired at the closest of the figures that pursed her relentlessly but the phaser bounced off a personal force field. It reached for her; strange tubules erupting from its pseudo hand that pierced her throat and, before his shocked eyes, he saw her skin turn white while small dark machines erupted from her cheek.

Borg.

His eyes widened further as another low whine filled the clearing and he watched in dismay as the communication badges dematerialized. Voyager had returned and locked onto their communicators on the assumption that they would be wearing them.

One of the Borg turned in his direction, and Alex knew there would be little chance to escape. He realized that they had yet to see Tuvok, and making a decision, he turned and ran, hoping both would follow him and give the Vulcan a chance to escape. As he ran blindly through the undergrowth his thoughts fell on Mulder. Heart and soul cried out in grief for himself and for his lover, knowing that once he had been made part of the Borg Collective, there would be little chance of him ever being found by Mulder. He knew that wouldn't stop Mulder from searching for him, just as his lover had spent most of his life in a tenacious search for his missing sister, Samantha.

He stumbled into another clearing and saw, in disbelief, that Tuvok had been running parallel to him. A single Borg drone came towards Alex and he struck out at it.

"Run!"

He yelled at Tuvok, urging him to escape while he had the chance. A blow knocked Alex to his knees and he cried out in pain as the strange tubules sprang out from the drone's fingertips, piercing his skin. He could only watch in horror as the flesh of his hand turned white and voices filled his head. He barely registered the sharp pain on his cheek as Borg implants grew at an alarming rate. The world dimmed around him, and his last sight was that of Tuvok racing across the clearing with another drone in pursuit of the Vulcan.

-ooOOoo-

The Borg drone fired, dropping Tuvok to the ground, and he could only look on in acceptance of his fate as the Borg approached. He retained muscular control only over his eyes and could not resist glancing towards Alex Krycek in the Vulcan equivalent of regret. The human had survived so many trials and torments in his short life: imprisonment, torture, and mutilation, but it had never seemed to be in vain until this moment. Once he had accepted the rank of Ensign within Voyager, Janeway had allowed the crew to learn about Alex Krycek and how much he had suffered to ensure the freedom of the human race. He was a living legend, along with the lover who had defied all logic and slept away the centuries in the hope of them being reunited.

Without the contributions of both men, there would have been no human race to make First Contact, and hence no Federation to spread peace and prosperity throughout the Alpha Quadrant. Without the Federation, Vulcan would have fought its enemies but eventually it would have fallen to the Klingon or Romulan Empires. The Humans had been the driving force behind the Federation, bridging the differences between the diverse cultures of the various worlds. Without them, the highly logical Vulcans would never have considered an alliance with the quick tempered and aggressive Tellarites, nor with the warrior races of Andor. They would not have accepted as allies the sexually promiscuous and highly empathic Betazoids, who loved to touch and share the thoughts of others, in contrast to Vulcans who prized their privacy above all else.

Was it in vain though?

Against all the odds, Krycek had been reunited with his lover across time and space; his very presence on board Voyager fuelling renewed conviction in Janeway's belief that they would not take a lifetime to return to the Alpha Quadrant. Many believed that even more resources would be poured into finding a way home for them, as they recognized the tenacity and the strength of will of the man waiting for Alex Krycek on Earth.

Logic dictated that Fox Mulder would not rest until he had his mate returned to him... even if it took a thousand years... and even if that meant taking on the Borg.

The Borg reached for Tuvok, "Resistance is futile," it said in its machine-modulated voice... but then it faltered. Tuvok frowned, his eyes darting back towards Krycek to see an amazing battle, visible only through the skin of the two adversaries. The Borg implants, built by the nanocytes entering Krycek's bloodstream, were breaking down, consumed from within. His chalk-white skin was mottled with the pink of human flesh, and then the flush of humanity won out. Before Tuvok's eyes, the battle shifted from Krycek's body to the Borg attempting to assimilate him. The Borg's former humanity revealed itself... its Borg weaponry-arm short-circuited and detached from his body, dropping to the ground... and then the Borg drone collapsed, falling to the ground beside Krycek. The Borg standing over Tuvok dematerialized along with the fully assimilated Crewman Mackson.

The whine of Voyager's transporter filled the clearing, easily picked up by Tuvok's sharper-than-human hearing, but Tuvok could only wait, still paralyzed, as Tom Paris and a security team raced across the clearing towards Krycek and the fallen Borg. Tuvok barely noticed Chakotay kneeling down beside him and almost startled when he heard the familiar soft voice.

"Tuvok?"

"I... am... functional" It was a struggle to get the words out but the paralyzing effect was slowly losing its hold upon him. Although he preferred not to be touched, Tuvok accepted Chakotay's assistance in regaining his feet. They walked, unsteadily, to where Krycek and the Borg lay unconscious on the ground.

"What happened?"

Tuvok gave Chakotay a sideways glance before turning his attention back to the unconscious Alex Krycek.

"I can only speculate that Mr. Krycek's nanocytes were stronger than the Borg's."

"Tom?"

"They're both in a coma. I think we should get them both back on board Voyager right away."

Chakotay touched his communicator. "B'Elanna, set up a containment field in Sickbay. We're bringing a Borg drone on board." He looked back down at the Borg lying close to his feet and added softly to himself, "Least he *was* a drone."

"Yeah... was. Not so sure what he is now though," added Paris and Tuvok silently agreed with that assessment.

-ooOOoo-

 **USS Atlanta  
Two Days From Earth**

Mulder stopped on the threshold of the holodeck and glanced at Captain S'Tek. He had asked if there was an area large enough on the ship where he could go jogging, not wanting to presume he would be allowed to run around the corridors of the busy ship. The Captain had suggested the holodeck but the room was barely forty feet across and devoid of any interesting features beyond the gridlines covering every surface.

He sighed. Jogging had always been his way of finding order, the physical exercise occupying the animal side of his brain leaving his mind cleaner and clearer for solving the problems facing him, or for dealing with troublesome thoughts. Since waking in this new century he had found little opportunity to order his thoughts, racing from one situation to the next as he tried to find a path to Alex Krycek. He had spent all of yesterday researching the Foundation and trying to figure out where he might locate the elusive Guardians but, for once, he had a feeling that all he had to do once he got to Vulcan was ask. After all, if Seaton was right then the Foundation belonged to him and Alex and the Guardians were merely controlling the Foundation until they took back the reins.

His body felt stiff and weak from the long sleep and then from the hours spent hunched over a console. His mind was swimming with new information, all of it swirling around inside his head without order, without connection. He needed to stop. He needed to digest what he had already taken in. He needed to allow his mind the opportunity to start forging those tenuous, often irrational, links that made him a formidable intellect rather than just a flesh camera. This was his strength. It was this that had made him such an excellent profiler in the FBI, and had then opened up so many paths as he sought to discover the truth within the paranormal. Tiny snippets of facts gleaned from a thousand sources, linking tentatively to build up a picture of a serial killer or of an event.

He could use that skill to bring Alex home: wormholes, singularities, and irregularities in the time/space continuum, or alien races that might hold the key to transwarp technology. How were those things created? How were they controlled? Where could he find them? It was often the tiniest of clues that had led him to the answers to his questions, something overlooked as insignificant until weighed against other clues and facts.

Mulder glanced around the empty room. Perhaps he ought to suggest he use the corridors after all. They were featureless for the most part too, but at least there would be the movement of people to distract part of his mind even while the rest focused on sharpening his thoughts.

"Computer. Activate holodeck program DC-2630-Hegal."

Mulder felt his chin drop as the room wavered, forming an image right out of his memory. He was standing on the steps of his apartment block in Hegal Place, looking across the street at the familiar buildings. It was early morning, only a few minutes after dawn, and the street was empty, just as it always was at this time of day.

"The Guardians believed you would find this program beneficial to your well-being. I must return to my duties now."

"Yeah... thanks." Mulder grinned, unconsciously reaching out to give S'Tek a friendly slap on the shoulder. He felt another knot of tension release at the slightly shocked expression on S'Tek's face as his emotions bled across to the Vulcan. He knew he ought to feel contrite and apologize but a sense of devilment had warmed through him, so he grinned cheekily.

Rather than be annoyed, S'Tek raised an eyebrow in resignation, nodding once before turning away. The door to the holodeck closed behind him leaving Mulder alone in the weirdly familiar world of his past. He brushed aside the momentary pang of homesickness and set off at a gentle pace. It felt good to feel the pavement beneath his feet once more though small anomalies in the holographic image of the streets pulled at his attention on a subconscious level.

As he ran, he let his thoughts drift aimlessly, knowing they would eventually find their way to the person uppermost in his mind. As he jogged through the park, heading towards the path that ran alongside the water, he recalled the time when he had been so lost in thoughts of Alex Krycek that he could have sworn he had run right past him. Mulder slowed, stopping beside the bench where the strangely familiar office worker, hidden behind a morning paper, had sat that day. He let the memory flow over him... and slowly grinned.

He knew every curve, and every plane of his lover so intimately now; from the delicate tips of his almost Vulcan ears to the narrowness of his chin. He knew every shade of brown and red that colored the short strands of hair, knew the shape of every finger from the delicate web of flesh at the base to the crescent of the nail beds at the tip. Those fingers had danced across his flesh, stroking and pinching, often followed by the sweep of tongue and the kiss of those sweetly bowed lips. He had traced the curve of those elfin ears with his tongue, enjoying the childish giggles as he shared his erotic thoughts in a whisper. Alex would moan in delight, hands grasping his hips, pulling them together so flesh smacked against flesh as Mulder drove into his beautiful body. Strong legs would wrap around his own, the heels digging into the back of his thighs or into his asscheeks as Alex tried to increase the power of the thrusts, wanton in his possession.

His memory trailed down the body of that man hidden behind the Washington Post, focusing on the lean, dark clad legs and slip-on boots.

Yes... it had been Alex that day. Alex before he had regained his left arm -- which explained away the previously unrealized awkwardness as the man tried to control the newspaper as it fluttered in the slight breeze.

"Son of a bitch." Mulder swore gently but without malice, his soft smile reflecting his love for Alex whereas, had he identified him at the time in question, he would have snarled and attacked Alex with fists and heated words. Yet, this revelation did little to warm his spirits as it sent him back into the cold depths of his longing to have Alex by his side once more.

Mulder turned away from the park bench and this memory, tuning out the longing as he focused, incisively, on how he could accomplish what seemed to be the impossible; bringing Voyager -- and Alex -- home *now* rather than waiting thirty-five years. As he ran alongside the water and then up the steps to the foot of the Lincoln memorial, he let his subconscious sort out the massive amount of information he had gleaned since waking. He paused, bending over to regain his breath, realizing that he was not quite as fit as he had been the last time he took this jogging route -- over three centuries before.

A shudder ran through the ship, knocking him off his feet. Mulder looked around as the holographic image of the world he had once known wavered in and out before disappearing completely, leaving him alone in the grid-marked room. The ship rocked again, and with nothing to grab hold of, Mulder rolled across the floor, crashing hard into the wall. He cried out as a sharp, jagged pain radiated out from his shoulder on impact, and then he fought his way to his feet. Staggering to the door, he was grateful that it opened smoothly before him, spilling him out into the corridor. Crewmen were moving past swiftly but Mulder reached out for one, grabbing their arm. The Vulcan woman turned in shock at being touched but Mulder was beyond caring that his pain might have bled through the tenuous link formed between them. He needed to know what was going on.

"What's happening?"

"The ship is under attack."

Mulder frowned, realizing that the shockwaves rippling through the ship had to be explosions detonating against the shields.

"You are injured. I will escort you to Sickbay."

"No. I need to get to the bridge."

"The bridge is off limits to guests without express permission from the commanding officer."

"I don't care... if you won't take me then just point me towards the nearest turbolift."

"I cannot do that. I will escort--"

The communication device attached to Mulder's clothing warbled but the message reverberated from the corridor wall. "Mr. Mulder, to the bridge immediately."

"Well?" Mulder asked, cocking his head to one side questioningly. In response, the Ensign tapped her communication badge.

"Ensign T'Parl to the bridge. I will escort Mr. Mulder."

She did not wait for an acknowledgment and, started down the corridor expecting Mulder to follow. In the enclosed space of the turbolift, Mulder realized that he was sweaty from his exertions but the Ensign gave no sign of distaste at the smell and sight of him: her face remained devoid of all emotion. Mulder consoled himself in that it was, at least, fresh sweat. They stepped out onto the bridge, and he was surprised at the calm, when he had expected to see crewmen rushing about frantically. At the center of the bridge sat Captain S'Tek with Commander Sears by his side. Both had their attention focused on the viewscreen.

Mulder's attention went to the massive viewscreen too as a sleek vessel skimmed across in front of the USS Atlanta. Fire blossomed from it, and the Atlanta shook as another explosion rocked the ship.

"Shields at 45% and falling."

S'Tek did not turn his head but his words proved that he was aware of Mulder's arrival. "Mr. Mulder. We are under attack from an unknown--"

"Colonists."

He had seen one of those vessels close up as it flew over his head at the secret airbase all those years ago. It had almost been close enough to touch, and his sources had later insisted that it was an experimental craft based on sixty-year-old alien technology. Scully had described something similar from her second near-abduction experience where the Colonist had fled following an attack by the faceless Rebel aliens... and then she described the alien craft found off the Ivory Coast in Africa.

This ship was the exact same shape with similar markings covering its exterior... but why was it unknown to S'Tek? Had the Colonists remained hidden for all these centuries? If so, then why was it attacking now? Could it possibly be after him?

"I speculated as much but required confirmation."

Another explosion rocked the ship and Mulder grabbed hold of the handrail surrounding the command center of the bridge.

"Shields down to 24%. We cannot take too many more of these hits."

"Evasive maneuver alpha-delta-nine."

The Atlanta curved away at a tangent from the attacking ship, "Incoming message from attacking ship", and then the screen flickered to life as a new image took shape, replacing the starfield with a familiar, menacing form.

"Bounty Hunter," murmured Mulder, earning a sharp look from S'Tek.

"I want Fox Mulder. Hand him over to me and I will let you live. Refuse and I will take him anyway... and destroy the rest of you."

S'Tek raised an eyebrow at the demand.

"T'Prel, prepare for maximum warp... 322 mark 4. Ensign Gregory, on my mark, target main sensor array with photon torpedoes... Fire."

The screen flicked back to a starfield view, the small Colonist ship lying dead center. Mulder felt a slight tremble and then saw the torpedo streak away; light blossomed against the Colonist vessel's shields, rocking the smaller ship, though it was otherwise ineffective against the craft's powerful shields.

"Warp Ten."

The ship veered steeply, a gentle rumble vibrating through the ship as the Atlanta went straight to maximum warp from a sub-light speed. The stars became streaks of light, as if captured in a time-lapse photograph.

"Hold course for sixteen seconds... mark... then set course back for Vulcan, Warp Three."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

S'Tek looked at Mulder once more. "Once you have made yourself presentable, please report to my Ready Room."

Mulder nodded, realizing that S'Tek was being considerate of his need to shower and change, rather than being insulting or derogatory. He left the bridge and headed straight to the guest quarters allocated to him on board Atlanta. Seaton was waiting in the lounge area, a worried expression on his face but Mulder forestalled his questions.

"The Captain wants to see me. I think you should come along too."

Seaton nodded and then sank down onto a plush couch as Mulder headed into his private quarters to take a shower. Inside, he decided against the sonic shower, needing to feel water sluicing the sweat from his body. He worked the soapy lather over his flesh, unsuccessfully trying to force back memories of sharing a shower with Alex. In his mind's eye he could see the lean form covered in soapsuds, could visualize every droplet of spray kissing the beautiful body. He could see his own reflection in the mirrored tiles, his body fitting against Alex so perfectly. Alex's fern green eyes watched him, heatedly, meeting through the mirror as Mulder pressed his palms against the tiled wall, allowing Alex full access to his body. He had kept his eyes locked on Alex, baring his soul without fear as Alex thrust deep inside him.

Mulder reached for his hard flesh as the memory overwhelmed him, feeling ghost fingers wrapped around him, drawing him to the edge. He gasped, head thrown back beneath the spray, mouth filling with water as he found completion in this fond memory of Alex.

Sharp pain radiated through his shoulder in remembrance of the sharp, white teeth that had bit deep into his neck at that final moment, almost drawing blood. The very real pain was enough to dispel the wonderful memory as he recalled his heavy impact with the wall on the holodeck.

Mulder rolled his shoulder, hissing at the fresh pain. He let the water wash away the soap along with the evidence of his longing for Alex.

"Damn it, Alex. You should be here with me, not light-years away."

Having briskly dried and partially changed into fresh clothes, Mulder stepped back into the main room where Seaton waited patiently. He winced as he pulled on the jersey.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. Just fell awkwardly during the battle."

"We'll head for Sickbay first."

"S'Tek is waiting--"

"He can wait a little longer."

Mulder sighed. There were times when he swore he could hear Scully -- and see Scully -- in the man standing by his side; a tilt of his head, the lift of a single eyebrow. Seaton led the way from the guest quarters but, later, he was grateful for Seaton's obstinacy.

Mulder gained his first real taste of modern medicine, as the female doctor eased the pain in his shoulder to far more manageable levels, but he couldn't help a sudden longing for Dana Scully and her ministrations. How often had he relied upon her medical knowledge and skill to save them? Without her the Earth would have fallen into Colonist hands for she had been the one to unlock the secrets of the bio-toxin that forced the Colonists to abandon their Plan for taking back the Earth. But there had been far more to her than just a scientist. She had been his friend and ally: his sounding board and his voice of reason. She had been his sister in everything but blood -- fortunately -- as he would never have wished Spender on her as a father.

She'd had as much cause to hate Alex as he, knowing that Alex had been there the night Cardinal killed her sister, knowing that Alex might have been in a position to stop Cardinal but had done nothing. She had forced aside her grief and hatred for *his* sake at first, but Mulder knew that she had finally overcome it for her own sake -- and for Alex. He remembered finding them talking late into the night when they assumed he was sleeping, eavesdropping as Alex revealed his part in Melissa's death and then asked for her forgiveness.

That had been only a few weeks before that fatal mission to infiltrate the mothership, but they had spent the past months working closely together, learning about each other, accepting each other's strengths and weaknesses.

Mulder's love for this sister of his heart and for his soulmate had expanded tenfold that night when he heard Dana grant Alex forgiveness without bitterness or rancor but with true friendship. He had seen their relationship grow stronger over time but that was the true turning point, as almost unwilling associates became close friends... and then family.

He missed her almost as much as he missed Alex but he knew she was long gone from this world. He had visited her grave just before leaving Earth. They had placed her in the small family plot between her father and sister, the inscription reading... 'Dana Katherine Scully, beloved daughter, sister, mother. Dearly missed by all who knew her.'

"You okay, Mulder?"

"You remind me of someone I once knew... every now and then."

Mulder gave Seaton no chance to respond as he requested entrance to S'Tek's Ready Room. The door swished open quietly and Mulder stepped inside. They were only a day away from Vulcan and Mulder had a feeling that S'Tek knew far more than he had revealed so far.

This latest development had added even more questions to the ones already circling through Mulder's mind but, hopefully, S'Tek would have some of the answers. If not, then Mulder was fully prepared to take those questions and the ensuing demands to the highest level.

One way or another, he would find he would find a way to bring Alex home.

-ooOOoo-

 **Admiral Paris's Office  
Starfleet Headquarters, Earth**

Paris ended the transmission with Captain S'Tek, frowning as he studied the images sent to him of the craft that Fox Mulder had identified as Colonist. Where had it come from? And why had they remained hidden all these centuries? The Atlanta had escaped this first attack through the skill of its captain, using subterfuge to temporarily blind the stronger foe, which in turn gave the Atlanta time to escape. However, both S'Tek and Paris were aware that this would not be the end of it. The occupant of that craft had attacked for one reason only, and as he or she had not gained what they were after therefore they would attack again. But when... and where?

Paris ordered the two closest Starfleet interceptors, Persephone and Minerva, to rendezvous with Atlanta and try to protect her and her valuable passenger from further attacks. His next task would be to contact the Vulcan High Command and warn them that the Atlanta might be bringing the battle to them should this Colonist decide to lay in wait for the Atlanta at its destination.

"Peterson, get me S'Tal of the Vulcan High Command."

Moments later, his viewscreen came to life revealing the austere features of a silver-haired Vulcan.

"Admiral Paris." The Vulcan nodded gravely. "Information on the attack has been received. Vulcan is prepared to repel any renewed attempt on the Atlanta in Vulcan space."

S'Tal reached over to end the communication but Paris stopped him.

"Has the Vulcan High Council also been informed?"

S'Tal raised an eyebrow very slightly in the closest approximation to intrigue or shock that Paris would ever get from this particular Vulcan.

"Yes."

The screen went blank as the communication ended abruptly but Paris knew this was not out of rudeness but merely because their business had been concluded. Few Vulcans stooped to pleasantries, and then only to placate certain individuals within the emotional races of the Federation. Paris rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He hadn't expected to get an answer, as there was little reason why anyone should have needed to inform the High Council about the attack on the Atlanta. However, when Mulder had been refused personal contact with Krycek on Voyager, it had been a 'request' from that powerful entity that came down to him through the Federation High Council as an order to comply.

But what possible connection could there be between Mulder, Krycek and the High Council on Vulcan, when First Contact with the Vulcan race had not occurred until decades after their assumed deaths?

The outer door opened and Peterson entered carrying several datapads. "Sir, I have the information downloaded from the databanks on the Atlanta. Copies have been sent to Tactical and Weapons for study with a Class A priority."

"Good. Captain S'Tek will be setting up a conference with Mr. Mulder. Hopefully he'll be able to answer a few of our questions, especially as he is the only person alive who's ever seen one of these craft."

"No, sir." Paris raised an eyebrow that was white and silvered with age. "Alex Krycek has also seen one of these Colonist vessels... extremely close-up if legends are to be believed."

"Silo 1013."

"Yes."

"Unfortunately, Voyager -- and Alex Krycek -- are out of communications range right now so let's hope our Mr. Mulder has some answers for us." Peterson nodded then saluted, turning to leave but was forestalled by Paris. "You've been studying the Silent War since Voyager informed us of her discovery of a Colonist mothership."

"Yes, sir. In particular the involvement of the main figures... Krycek, Mulder, Scully, Nouira within the Resistance... and Spender, Strughold, Arntzen and the leaders of the Consortium."

"Then you probably know far more than I do about all of this. I want you to sit in on this meeting."

"Yes, sir." Peterson took a seat and waited, but Paris noticed he was fidgeting even though it was barely noticeable.

"Is there a problem, Gerry?"

Gerry Peterson pursed his lips, and then he shuffled through the small stack of datapads until he held one in particular. He handed it to Paris and watched as Paris activated the handheld computer. Paris looked up in consternation, white eyebrows knitted together.

"Are you certain?"

"No, sir, which is why I had not brought it to your attention earlier."

Paris looked back down at the small screen and then brought the two images up onto the main viewscreen in his office. Paris had read enough data on the Silent War to recognize many of the main players. The pretty blonde-haired woman with gray/blue eyes had identified herself as Hannah Mackson to Voyager but the grainy, fuzzy image taken over three centuries ago gave her the likeness of a woman accused of terrible crimes: mass murder, torture... attempted genocide. Marita Covarrubias had used her position within the United Nations to identify and then condemn whole villages in Russia, Columbia, Mongolia, Afghanistan, and in several third World African nations to horrific experimentation on behalf of the Consortium. She had disappeared soon after betraying Alex Krycek on his return from Russia with a boy infected with the 'Black Oil' Colonist virus.

'Legend' told of her becoming infected with the same virus and then disposed of by the Consortium.

If Mackson and Covarrubias was the same person then it was easy to figure out how the Consortium had disposed of her. It was a terrifying thought that of the thousands of abducted humans taken on board that craft; one of the sixty-four to survive all those centuries had been this monster. The odds against that happening were astronomical... but Paris had learned over the years to expect the unexpected.

Of course, this might just be an unfortunate likeness but Paris wished he had communication with Voyager so he could pass along the information and let Janeway verify this. If Peterson was right and this was Covarrubias, then she would present a danger not only to Alex Krycek but to Voyager, as well, according to everything he had heard of this power-hungry, possibly psychopathic woman.

Paris turned to Peterson. "When does Mr. Barclay estimate there will be another communications window with Voyager?"

"In 23 days, 14 hours approximately."

"Too long. We just have to hope Mr. Krycek will identity her as a threat to Janeway before she finds a way to dispose of him."

Paris pushed aside thoughts of Covarrubias as the computer's soft voice warned him of an incoming communication from the Atlanta.

-ooOOoo-

 **Borg Nexus  
Delta Quadrant**

With fluidic grace, the Borg Queen turned her head as she was reassembled, flexing her cyborg limbs and fingers as the body parts were clamped into place about her torso. She smiled serenely, yet menacingly, her fingers trailing, almost sensuously, over the perfect white flesh of a newly assimilated female. Gray/blue eyes stared out from the shockingly white face; Borg implants spreading out around one eye socket in preparation for the addition of a sophisticated eye nodule. Already, one arm had been severed, replaced with Borg weaponry and interface mechanisms.

"Perfection," she purred, as her mind linked to this latest addition to the Collective, reveling in the coldness of the mind she explored. Her eyes fluttered closed as she sought the information she needed from this one's mind. She had come so close to assimilating one of Janeway's prized crewmembers, and then been forced to abandon her plan when the Collective was attacked by a virus far more powerful than any known to her during her long centuries as Queen. The drone attempting to assimilate the creature containing the virus had to be abandoned too, the loss of its voice from her mind such a waste... but necessary to avoid the spread of the destructive virus within the Collective.

But where had the infected creature come from? Where had this virus come from? It was essential that she identify this risk to the Borg before it could be used against them.

She opened her eyes, sighing in pleasure at the knowledge streaming into her from the assimilated human female that had once called itself Marita. She learned the dark history of the Colonist Plan to take over the home world of the human species -- and then discovered the reasons for its failure. However, this one called Marita did not have all the answers that the Queen required, so she knew it was imperative that she captured the one called Alex Krycek. Her specialist drones would take the human apart, cell-by-cell if necessary; in order to neutralize the threat he posed to the Collective.

But what to do with this one? She knew that her functionality as Queen was coming to an end for there was only so many times that a partially organic entity could be regenerated before the error parameters were exceeded. She had primed Seven of Nine to be her replacement, selecting her for her physical and mental perfection. However, Seven of Nine had displayed a character flaw that had now made her selection questionable. Despite belonging to the Collective since an early age, Seven of Nine had shown a strong resistance to rejoining the Collective and had deliberately worked against her Queen to prevent the assimilation of the crew of Voyager.

The Queen still believed that this might change once Seven of Nine had been re-assimilated, but she could also see the logic in having a second drone prepared as a potential Queen. Until now, though, no other drone had shown the required perfection of mind and body.

The Queen smiled as her fingers trailed over the form of this new drone that might, one day, become the Queen in her place.

-ooOOoo-

 **USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

"Any change?"

The Doctor looked up as Janeway approached and came to a halt at the edge of the containment field surrounding the comatose bodies of Alex Krycek and the former Borg drone.

"There has been some improvement."

The Doctor moved between his two patients with ease, passing through the separate fields surrounding them with just a flicker of motion but, then, the Doctor was not a life form in the organic sense of the word. He was photonic... a holographic program originally written as a computer generated assistant to the 'real' doctor. Unfortunately, that doctor had been one of the first casualties on board Voyager, killed when the ship was transported seventy light years from home into the Delta Quadrant. It had never been intended for the Doctor's program to be online permanently and, over the years, he had gained sentience: learning, growing... evolving, as he added to his own programming.

The Doctor looked down at the dark-haired human who seemed to have spent a substantial amount of time in his Sickbay since coming on board several weeks ago. His additional programming allowed him to appreciate the beauty of Alex Krycek's sleeping form beyond its functionality. The long eyelashes formed dark smudges against the pale cheeks and soft, bowed lips -- bloodless until a few hours ago -- were now a dusky pink as color returned slowly to the body.

"They look so serene it's hard to imagine how much activity is going on inside their bodies," Janeway murmured, as she watched the small viewscreen depicting the rapid dis-assimilation of the Borg nanocytes by the organic ones they had discovered in Alex Krycek.

Janeway looked across at the former drone, seeing the humanity in his features as the Borg implants were slowly dissolved by the virus-like nanocytes destroying those of the Borg.

"Do we know who he was... is?"

"Ensign Stefan Greer, formerly of the USS Enterprise--"

"Picard's ship," she murmured, leaning forward with interest and staring harder at the man's face.

"He was assimilated by the Borg when Enterprise was boarded during the 'First Contact' mission."

Janeway nodded. Voyager had been at Deep Space Nine when she heard of the incident. One of the Borg Cubes attacking Earth had been caught in a time-spatial anomaly and Picard had followed it in order to prevent the Borg from assimilating Earth before First Contact had been made with Vulcan. He lost almost a quarter of his crew to the Borg during that mission; including one of his newly appointed Bridge officers.

Janeway gave a gentle smile. It would be a small victory to be able to bring at least one of them home.

"Let me know when either of them awakens."

"Yes, Captain."

Janeway took one last look at the two still figures then turned away. Samples of Krycek's nanocytes were already in the Science laboratory being studied by Seven of Nine and Janeway wanted to hear what she had discovered so far. If Janeway was right then Alex Krycek's genetic make-up could hold the key to protecting the Federation from the Borg, perhaps even to destroy the Collective and free the countless citizens already assimilated.

The Doctor called out as she reached the door and she turned, her eyes locking onto the readings displayed close to Alex Krycek's form. She stepped back towards his bed and watched as his eyelashes flickered, slowly rising to reveal large dark pupils surrounded by a corona of deep, sea green. A pink tongue traced over dry lips and Janeway accepted the glass of water held out by the Doctor, placing the straw against Alex's lips. He sipped at the water, sighing in fatigue, eyelashes fluttering before they opened fully.

"Welcome back, Mr. Krycek."

"Mulder?"

She smiled sadly, understanding that he was a little confused and wanting to know where his partner was. "I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is."

His focus sharpened on her, and with it came recognition, remembrance... and sorrow. She wished she could have said 'welcome home to Earth' rather than 'welcome back to Voyager'. She wished he could have awoken to find his lover waiting for him but little had changed in their circumstances beyond the miracle of his escape from being made part of the Borg Collective.

"I expect you're feeling weak and confused. Rest for now and we'll talk later."

Alex felt the pressure of the hypospray against his neck filling him with renewed lethargy and drawing him back towards oblivion but instead of the expected nothingness, he found his lover waiting for him in his dreams. He sighed softly, reaching out to wrap his arms around the well-remembered body. His lips sought and found his lover's, tasting the uniqueness that was Mulder as their tongue twisted and turned in a well-loved dance. Fingers splayed across his back, pulling him close, and his own hands dropped to cup the swell of his lover's ass, sending delicious sensations racing through him as their groins rubbed against each other.

He murmured softly into the hot mouth, feeling an answering vibration as Mulder moaned his appreciation. He'd waited so very long for this, so many years yearning for Mulder's touch, so many times accepting the blow of a fist rather than nothing at all.

Mulder pushed him backwards, pushed him hard against a wall, his mouth bruising in its demands, hands griping him too painfully. He could feel the cold brick against his unprotected back, the rough surface scraping against his flesh until it burned, until he felt as if the flesh had been stripped away leaving him bloody and raw.

Sharp nails scored his flesh leaving welts in their path and he cried out softly, caught between pain and pleasure. A hand wrapped around his engorged shaft, squeezing too tight, bringing tears welling into his eyes, spilling down his cheeks.

Pain rolled over into a dry release that gave little pleasure, his only solace the warm arms still wrapped around him, the strong heartbeat pumping beneath his ear and the gentle words of reassurance spilling in a soft monotone. His eyes flew open, hands reaching for the fading image of his lover only to be caught in another's hands.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. You're okay."

"Tom?"

"You've still got a slight fever but the Doc's given you something that should bring it down."

"Fever?"

"Yeah. That little one-on-one with a Borg took a lot out of you."

Alex frowned, and then he remembered the ghoul-like creature clad in black like a creature straight out of 'Hellraiser' coming for him. It had been relentless in its pursuit, finally catching him. But what had happened next? Had Tuvok saved him?

"Where's Commander Tuvok?"

"He's fine. A little knocked around some but... fine." Tom Paris grinned. "Looks like the Borg are gonna have to change their calling tune. 'Resistance is Futile' didn't seem to work on you."

"Resistance?"

Snatches of memory came back to him: seeing the dead eyes of the creature flare into life, feeling the coldness of its touch and the heat of his own body's response. His heart rate had tripled, his blood pumping through his veins, lungs laboring for each breath.

The creature had tried to inject something into his bloodstream. What had happened? Had his body reacted violently to the attack? Tom's words implied that he had resisted -- and that his resistance had not been futile. But where was the creature now?

Alex raised his head, eyes misty as he tried to focus around him, and he froze when he saw the figure on the other bed close by.

"It's all right. He's inside a containment field... until we know for sure he's no longer Borg."

"Borg. Those things were the Borg?"

Alex lay back down, only now truly absorbing the enormity of what had happened to him, even more shocked now that he understood what he had faced and survived. Suddenly he was aware of how close he had come to being lost to Mulder forever, though he had a feeling Mulder would have spent the rest of his life trying to free him from the Borg. With sudden insight, he realized that his unusual genetic make-up must have saved him yet again, and he gave silent thanks to the Englishman for his part in that.

"Hmmm... temperature's still on the high side but within normal parameters... blood count slightly higher than it was a week back but that's not surprising under the circumstances."

"Can I go to my quarters?"

"The Doc wants to run a few more checks before he lets you out of here... but I can't see him keeping you here much longer."

"How long have I been here?"

"Two days."

Alex sighed. Another two days of his life had gone, never to be recovered. Two more days that he should have spent lying in Mulder's arms as they discussed their future rather than lying here alone almost a lifetime away.

There had to be a faster route home. Somewhere. Somehow.

-ooOOoo-

 **Vulcan, Eridani System  
Alpha Quadrant**

The Bounty Hunter gazed down upon the red planet known as T'Khasi to its inhabitants, unable to truly appreciate its harsh beauty. As the primary star disappeared behind the horizon of the planet behind him, Vulcan's twin planet, T'Khut -- an uninhabited volcanic world known as The Watcher -- rose slowly and majestically before his ship. The last rays of Vulcan's primary star seemed to set The Watcher ablaze with its orange light. And then it was gone, plunging The Watcher into darkness until the passage of T'Khut's moon reflected the light of the sun back from the storm-lashed planet to bathe Vulcan with its orange glow.

The inhabitants of T'Khasi -- of Vulcan -- considered themselves to be technologically advanced but in truth, like the humans, their sophisticated devices were still not advanced enough to detect his ship. The only Colonist vessels ever to be detected had been those with their cloaking devices damaged, or those that their masters had allowed to be seen.

In all the many centuries that his people had been visiting Earth, only a handful had met with accidents. Most of those so-called accidents had been caused by battle damage from skirmishes with Issian ships, leading to their detection.

The craft found off the Ivory Coast in Africa had been an exception. It had been left behind sixty-five million years earlier when his people fled the planet; slowly covered by the sands of time and then revealed again by the timeless wash of an ocean.

As with all Colonist ships, its hull had carried the legends of his people written in a language as old as time. Its phonetics were taught to one of the races of man, the Navajo, and then its written form, seemingly created by man, but, in reality, re-taught by the Colonists to ease their subtle passage back onto the planet of their genesis.

The Bounty Hunter studied the hot planet below. He had come here many times over the centuries, intrigued by the link between these creatures and the humans. They were an unlikely partnership due to the differences in their philosophies and yet they worked well together. Of course, if Colonization had been successful in 2012 then there would not have been a human left alive on Earth to make First Contact in 2063.

His features did not alter in the slightest but his thoughts hardened and, internally, he cursed the leaders who had opted for a subtle takeover of Earth rather than attacking swiftly and decisively. Their hesitation had been their undoing, for it allowed time for others on the Galactic Council to become suspicious of their excursions back into the galaxy from whence his people had originally evolved.

He thought of the other races, especially the one that had sent its spies and 'rebels' to counteract their colonization plans while the Council argued over its legitimacy. With Earth so far away, it had been easy to convince the vast majority of the members that the inhabitants -- the humans -- were lower life forms rather than sentient beings.

The Issians had not been convinced though.

He thought of his people's galactic cousins. Millions of years in the past his ancestors had been driven off the Earth by the terrible meteor storm that ravaged the planet. Then they had been driven from the galaxy by a race that had laid claim to more than two-thirds of it; a race whose empire had fallen under the weight of its own cruelty until barely a single monument remained to mark its passing.

In a nearby galaxy they had found a home and, over the millennia their blood had mixed with the race of Meridae until their identity became submerged within it. The Issians shared a common ancestry in the Meridae people, giving their races some genetic traits in common, though these similarities were slowly disappearing with each new generation.

It was Colonist scientists who, in the course of their experiments with humans, discovered the bio-toxin... but rather than destroy all evidence of it, they had kept the data. Issian spies -- and a rebel faction within his own people -- had learned of it, and they had then assisted the humans in gaining access to it using the genetically altered Alex Krycek to subvert Colonist security on board the mothership.

Unfortunately, Alex Krycek had paid for his interference in the Plan... or at least, so he had thought until recently.

When the bio-toxin was released, thousands of his brethren fell across the planet -- those that had already infiltrated into important positions of power with the human population -- and, in their panic, they brought the disease onto the ships and carried it across the galaxy. And so the truth of the Colonization Plan was revealed to the Council; that they had been working towards the genocide of a sentient race in order to take back a planet that his ancestors had abandoned millennia in the past.

Over three hundred years later and his people were still banned from the Galactic Council; still prohibited from having a say in matters of any importance. Scapegoats had to be found for this disaster and so they sent him into exile along with the other bounty hunters, forbidden to return home as punishment for his 'failure'.

Internally, he fumed. He was a soldier. He had been given orders which he had carried out to the best of his ability, no matter his own personal views... and he was *still* a soldier. Before his defeated leaders withdrew from this galaxy they gave him one final order: to hunt down all those responsible for the downfall of the Plan, and his people.

To this end he had already eliminated most of the Issian Rebels, a small smile curling his lips as he recalled the feel of the plam sliding into the back of Jeremiah Smith's neck. It had taken him two centuries to track down that particular rebel but it had been worth it. Smith had been the thorn in his side during those decades on Earth, working on countermeasures to the Colonist Plan, even 'healing' those human abductees returned to Earth that carried his peoples' genetic imprint.

Tracking down the human Resistance leaders on Earth should have been far easier in comparison, even though the Earth had been poisoned against him. He had personally executed the old one called The Englishman, and then his so-called security expert, Hamed Nouira.

His plans to eliminate Dana Scully had been thwarted by Nouira -- one last selfless act before meeting his death -- and she disappeared soon after. All trace of her whereabouts were eradicated during the Eugenics War that followed... until he located her grave many decades later and accepted that she had escaped his retribution by the passage of time and the shortness of the human lifespan.

He had believed that of Fox Mulder too and then, eighty-three years ago, he had discovered Mulder's continued existence within a cryogenics facility on Earth after an attempt to sabotage the human's unit had failed. Inwardly, he felt no annoyance at this failure by one of his brethren, though he prided himself on the knowledge that he would *not* have failed, should killing Mulder have been his intention.

With the Earth still poisonous to his kind even after more than two centuries, his 'brother' had bought the services of an alien mercenary. The Cardassian convinced a distinguished Bajoran Cryogenics expert -- Dr. Sandrova Elissa -- to assist him by holding her people to ransom, but none of them had foreseen the reluctance of the Director of the Facility to move Mulder as ordered.

To ensure his fellow bounty hunter did *not* succeed on his next attempt to kill Mulder, he had hunted him down and destroyed him before the Foundation, working through the Federation, could locate him. He did not want the humans to discover that an old enemy was still out there waiting.

The Bounty Hunter was a patient being, knowing that Mulder would awaken eventually and that his innate curiosity would put him on a ship heading off world. Once off world he would become easy prey, no longer protected by his poisonous home world.

After all, he wanted Mulder alive, his only sorrow at the time being that he could not have Mulder's mate as well. He had assumed Alex Krycek was dead, lost when the bio-toxin-infected mothership left Earth and was damaged by Issian ships as it went into transwarp. Until intercepting the message from the Federation High Council, he had assumed that the mothership had been destroyed, taking Alex with it, falling out of the transwarp corridor where it would drift until pulled to a fiery death in the heat of a star.

His thoughts centered on the beautiful Alex Krycek and his equally beautiful mate, Fox Mulder. His orders had been to hunt them down and make them pay for their part in the downfall of his people. No mention had been made of making *death* that payment.

Alex was his obsession; one that had not faded even over the many centuries when he thought the Human/Issian hybrid lost to him. If anything, it had sharpened his desire for the hybrid and once he had hunted them both down, making them pay as he saw fit, then his obligation would be over. He would have no true master... and the Bounty Hunter realized that he would then be free to take what he wanted.

And he wanted Alex Krycek.

The problem was, he had not been able to gain a fix on Voyager's position so, even though he had the means to reach the lost vessel within perhaps only a day, he had no idea where to find it. All attempts to discover that location over the past weeks had met with failure, but Mulder would have the answer, locked away inside that exceptional brain... and Mulder would also be the perfect bait to lure Alex to him.

That thought pleased him no end. He had been content to wait over eight decades just to have Fox Mulder, just to touch him again and bend him to his will, but now he would have the beautiful, intoxicating Alex too.

His memory returned to that night, centuries before, when he had used his shape-shifting abilities to trick Mulder into revealing Alex's location. He had taken the form of Alex Krycek... and discovered the pleasure of being human as he allowed his shape-shifted body to experience the sensations of sexual release with Fox Mulder.

The ecstasy flooding through him grew exponentially when he found and ravaged the hybrid; burning through his body, ignited by the Issian pheromones filling the air around his unwilling lover as Alex fought against his possession.

Only his sworn duty had prevented him from taking Alex to his ship and disappearing with him that day, disliking the idea of handing this amazing creature over to Spender. Then later, only his obligation to his people had stopped him from saving Alex when he was inadvertently infected with the antiviral carrying the genetic code to create one of his own kind.

He had no such restrictions upon him now. He was alone... in exile... and he would have them both.

A sensor tingled through him and he watched as the USS Atlanta dropped out of warp, moving towards Vulcan on impulse power. He had to admire the skill of its captain, using such a clumsy and yet effective misdirection to evade capture but all it had done was deny Mulder another day without his lover.

His sensors swept out to encompass the Federation ship, set to single out the presence of a single human being, Fox Mulder.

Negative.

The Bounty Hunter swept the ship again, his impassive features hiding the anger rippling through him as he realized he had been tricked again. Mulder was not on board the Atlanta, having slipped from his grasp once more.

-ooOOoo-

Mulder shielded his eyes as he glanced upwards at the planet-rise of T'Khut. The Watcher glowed brilliantly for a moment, caught in the glare from 40 Eridani A -- the orange main sequence dwarf that was the system's primary star -- and then the glare eased as the primary star disappeared below the horizon.

Moments later, a soft orange glow came over the desert as T'Khut's moon reflected light back from the hidden sun, giving the land even more of an otherworldly feel. His lungs labored under the thinness of the air, and he swept aside strands of hair plastered to his forehead from only a few minutes of exposure to the heat of this strange world.

The temperature dropped suddenly, and Mulder shivered as his sweat cooled upon his body, grateful for the cloak that was wrapped around his shoulders.

"The Temple of Fal Tor Reh."

The Vulcan indicated the darkened structure that had been hewn from the jagged peaks overlooking the desert known as Vulcan's Forge. It blended so perfectly into the landscape that it been invisible to him until the Vulcan had pointed it out. A deep sound resonated from within, filling the still air during this transition between day and night, and Mulder followed both the sound and his guide through the ancient stone corridors that were lit only by the glow of T'Khut and its moon.

A massive door opened before him without a sound, spilling light from a great hallway into the corridor. He glanced sideways at Seaton before stepping inside, following their guide through long passages until they reached an inner courtyard circled by the glow of lamps mimicking a springtime day on Earth.

"The Guardian."

Ahead of them sat a figure concealed in a long cloak. The figure rose gracefully as Mulder approached, and Mulder's analytical mind decided it was a female. He came to a halt several steps away, eyes narrowed as he tried to see inside the darkness of the hood that concealed the woman's features.

She raised her small hands and pushed back the hood; her hair glowing red in the lamplight; cerulean blue eyes awash with tears of joy. Mulder felt his breath catch in his throat for a moment before he croaked out a single name.

"Scully!"

-ooOOoo-

Sepek watched the emotional reunion between the humans with just the right amount of Vulcan stoicism, though he had come to accept the occasional outbursts from the Guardian over the century that he had spent by her side. In that time he had altered his appearance gradually to conform to the Vulcan ideal of aging so that none would question him, but he sensed that his time on this hot volcanic world was coming to an end. The Issian had taken on this role because his people knew that the Bounty Hunter who had slain one of their leaders, known to the humans as Jeremiah Smith, would come to this place. He would come here so that he might fulfill his orders to his own leaders and take revenge on those who had prevented the Colonist takeover of Earth, subsequently bringing about the downfall of the Colonist people in their galaxy. He would come here on the trail of the last known Human Resistance leader, a human who had lain in stasis on a world that was poisonous to his kind: Fox Mulder.

Other Issians had been searching this galaxy for the Bounty Hunter but finding a single fast Colonist ship in such a heavily populated galaxy had been the equivalent of searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. However, Sepek knew this particular Bounty Hunter would not leave until he had completed his sworn duty, so it had been only a matter of time... something which the Issian -- and Colonists -- had in abundance.

The Issian felt a tingle run through him; one of anticipation. It would not take long for the Bounty Hunter to locate Fox Mulder on the planet surface, as Mulder's genetic make-up was unique. Mulder was a hybrid, borne out of experimentation by Consortium scientists in the belief that they would be saving some part of humanity by their actions. He was the only surviving Colonist/Human hybrid, the rest having been poisoned when the bio-toxin was released.

Sepek gave a small, almost unnoticeable smile as he wondered if Mulder realized how close he had come to dying on Earth on the day his people had released the highly toxic virus. However, Jeremiah Smith had always held some affection for this particular human, ensuring that the virus would have no effect on Mulder. His act of kindness had paid off, for Fox Mulder was the perfect bait to lure the Colonist Bounty Hunter out into the open where he could be captured and then returned to their galaxy to face judgment for his crimes.

Discovering that the Issian hybrid, Alexei, also lived had been a shock to them all. They had assumed he had been destroyed along with the mothership many centuries ago. It had taken all their considerable efforts to conceal his whereabouts, ensuring that only a very few within the Federation knew of Voyager's -- and hence, Alexei's -- position.

They knew Mulder would learn enough, though, to give the Hunter a location that was less than a week old, so Issian ships had been dispatched to watch over Alexei. They had almost failed in their duty when the creatures known as the Borg intercepted Voyager and almost assimilated him. The Issian had, arrogantly, assumed that his unique genetics would be enough to fight off the Borg nanoprobes, forgetting that Alexei was a hybrid. Fortunately, his body chemistry *had* been enough, and the Borg had withdrawn before the Issian nanocytes could affect the whole Collective.

He felt a moment of sadness, knowing that it was within his power to reunite the two within days. However, they had to keep Alexei separate from his lover; for if they failed to stop the Hunter, using Mulder as bait, then there would be a second chance using Alexei.

He did not even consider the possibility of failing twice and losing both hybrids to the Hunter.

Sepek knew he would need to be on his guard for the next few hours, aware that the Bounty Hunter was no ordinary Colonist soldier but one who had proved formidable at his work. A well-placed plam would end his life and allow the Hunter to escape with not just another Issian death on his already bloodied hands but with the human Jeremiah had loved also. As he could not take that risk, Sepek stayed in the shadows, close enough to hear Dana Scully's quick explanation for why she still existed unchanged after more than three centuries.

-ooOOoo-

"Do remember a man called Alfred Fellig?"

"Hard to forget the case," responded Mulder wryly. "Kersh gave you your very own rookie and you let him shoot you."

Scully smiled, the centuries disappearing as she recalled his worried face when she came around in the hospital after surgery to remove Ritter's bullet from her body. Ritter had panicked, shooting Fellig, but she had been standing right behind him and the bullet had passed through Fellig and into her. She had felt her life slipping away. She could still recall Fellig reaching for her hand and telling her not to look into Death's face. Some desire within her, some crazy belief in this man, had given her the strength to do as he said as the shadow of Death fell over her. Death took Fellig instead that day as he was granted what he had desired for decades -- the chance to end his unwanted existence.

In the aftermath of that event, she had found excuses for everything that happened, convincing herself that it had been Fellig's time -- but not hers -- and that there *had* to be another explanation for why Fellig had appeared on the records unchanged for so many years. In the hectic years that followed, as they fought the Colonists, she forgot all about Fellig and the prophecy Clyde Bruckman had given long before when she asked him how she would die.

'You don't', had been his answer.

It was only the passing of the years, spent alone after Alex disappeared and Mulder willingly underwent cryogenic freezing, that brought back those memories but, unlike Fellig, she did not find horror in her discovery of immortality. She had seen Earth descend into the terrors of the Eugenics War and then witnessed the birth of the Federation. Through it all she had held onto her dream of seeing Mulder again, willing to spend the rest of eternity ensuring that he remained safe, and turning all the considerable resources of the Resistance into research for the protection of Earth -- and the search for Alex Krycek. And so she had created the Foundation.

Her only sadness had been seeing loved ones grow old and die, and then she discovered that there were other races whose lifespan was far longer, delaying that pain for just a little longer.

Perhaps it was their analytical minds that drew her to them, or perhaps it had been the fact that they lived twice as long as a human but she had taken the opportunity to leave Earth and the fear of discovery behind. The Vulcans had given her sanctuary and, in return, she had placed the power of the Foundation within their sphere of influence, accepting their guidance as they worked towards building a Federation of Planets. She had immersed herself in research, no longer concerned by the lack of time that had robbed her of her passion in the past.

She saw realization dawn in his hazel eyes, and with it renewed joy that it had been her who had been granted such a wondrous gift. He grinned, eyes sparking with a teasing light.

"Hey... that means you've had plenty of time to find a date for the FBI Annual Ball."

Scully rolled her eyes and groaned, recalling the last one she had attended with Mulder just before Alex Krycek came back into their lives and took up residence in Mulder's heart. Whenever she tried to find the time to make arrangements with someone to escort her, Mulder would come up with some crazy new theory concerning the case they had been working on. On the night of the ball she had been ready to turn up alone, mentally preparing herself for the pitying stares that she would garner as she walked in on her own... and then the doorbell had sounded.

She had found Mulder waiting on her step, beautifully attired in a tuxedo and carrying a corsage that matched her coloring perfectly.

'Your carriage awaits, Cinderella,' he had said, sweeping his arm back towards the battered Mondeo that had lost a fight with a brick wall during a chase earlier that day.

At the ball she could see that their colleagues couldn't decide whether to pity or envy them. Mulder had looked so handsome, so debonair... so elegant... with his true breeding revealed in the way he held himself and danced with her so gracefully. She had seen others staring at him with heat in their eyes and that had made her so proud that he had chosen her and not them. She had fallen in love with him all over again that night, though not the kind of love between man and woman, but the love of true friendship, of belonging... of family.

As he pulled up outside her home later that night, he had leaned over and softly kissed her on the cheek.

'One day your prince will come,' he had said in a low, soft tone.

'And probably sweep *you* off your feet, Mulder,' had been her cynical response... but *his* prince had come. Dark hair, green eyes with an unearthly beauty that reminded her of her love for Science Fantasy as a teen. Alex Krycek was all things Elvish, from his slightly pointed ears to his narrow chin, from his wide-spaced, forest green eyes to his deeply bowed, rose-petal lips.

Once she had seen beyond the façade of a killer, accepting that he had never intended to see Melissa slain by Cardinal, she had grown to love him too. Mulder was the brother of her heart, and seeing him with Alex during that final year as they fought side by side against the Colonists and the Consortium, had made her realize how shallow her own former loves had been.

'And I'm still waiting for my prince to come,' she thought softly.

"They found Alex."

Scully smiled; unfazed by the sudden change of subject for she knew Alex would never be far from his thoughts.

"I know." She laughed quietly. "With all the resources of the Foundation it still took pure chance to find him. A ship thrown to the other side of the galaxy, and they just happen to pass within sensor range on their journey home." She frowned. "What are the odds on that happening, Mulder?"

"Astronomical?"

Her groan at his quip cut off sharply as a column of white light appeared around Mulder, his form fading within the Colonist matter transporter. She reached for him in horror, seeing the startlement in his eyes as he was swept away. From the shadows, another form lunged towards the light but Sepek was too late. She depressed the small communication device that appeared as a beautiful, intricate bracelet around her wrist.

"Get me Vulcan Space Command."

Her eyes widened in shock as another circle of light, different from the Colonist transporter beam, formed around Sepek and his true form glowed in the bluish light that whisked him away without a word.

-ooOOoo-

The Bounty Hunter smiled triumphantly as he set the ship speeding away from Vulcan on a course set for the Delta Quadrant. When he was certain there was no immediate threat, he stepped away from the controls and up close to Mulder, looking deep into startled green and gold eyes. He smiled as Mulder tried to hit out at him, his efforts wasted against the restraining forcefield that surrounded him.

"Where is the Issian hybrid?"

"I don't know--"

"Alexei. Tell me where to find Alexei."

He saw Mulder's eyes harden, and saw the refusal shaping his soft lips, and he grinned lustfully. His smile faltered as he thought again of the beautiful creature that he had believed lost for centuries.

"With this ship I can reach him in a single day." His eyes narrowed in speculation. "If you had not fled me earlier then, at this very moment, you might have been enjoying the feel of his warm flesh against yours."

The Bounty Hunter registered the pain in Mulder's eyes even as his thoughts returned to the wondrous vision of seeing these two perfect creatures caressing each other, and writhing together wantonly for his pleasure. He knew the touch of their skin against his, could see again the passion filling this one's eyes when he believed he was being adored by his lover all those centuries ago rather than the Hunter bearing Alex's form. Fox Mulder had been his first intimate contact with humans, drawing him into a world of tactile pleasure. He had taken many others during this time of waiting, this time of exile, but none had compared to the rapture of being with Fox... and then with Alex.

He knew why. Neither of these creatures was fully human. Both were hybrids -- one Issian, and one combined with the blood of his people. He frowned, his senses filling with the scent of the Colonist/Human hybrid, feeling the rekindling of an old sensation deep within him so reminiscent of Alexei. He grinned in realization, knowing that Jeremiah Smith had, unwittingly, given *him* one last gift by adding Issian blood to the beautiful hybrid standing before him.

How else could Mulder have survived the bio-toxin that killed his less than perfect hybrid brethren?

The Issian pheromones, though weaker, were gradually permeating the ship, bleeding through the light forcefield that held Mulder captive, and setting the Hunter's senses on fire with need and desire.

"Tell me where he is and we shall all be reunited."

He could sense Mulder weakening, his desire to be with his true mate slowly overshadowing all else.

"No."

The Bounty Hunter saw a spark of fire race into the anguish-filled eyes, reading the simple thought lying uppermost in the quicksilver mind that refused to betray Alex into the Hunter's hands. Mulder knew he would be condemning Alexei to a lifetime of subservience to him, perhaps decades bowing to his sexual will.

"Not just the Issian... I would take you too. And not just for decades but for millennia."

He registered fresh shock in the human hybrid's eyes and laughed aloud, enjoying a sound he had never made in human form until this moment, having not understood its purpose before.

"Yes. Millennia. The blood of my people, and the blood of the Issian, runs through your veins and his... and we are a long-lived race." He grinned maliciously into the stunned eyes. "You have wasted so much time in sleep when you could have lived. So much time in dreams when you could have held the reality in your arms." He leaned in closer to the shocked and anguished hybrid, lips almost touching, separated only by the forcefield lying between them. "Do not waste another day. Tell me where to find him."

The Bounty Hunter smiled as the thoughts coalesced in Mulder's mind, narrowing down to a part of the Delta Quadrant where the Federation had last made contact with USS Voyager. He drew back in shock as, suddenly; the human hybrid began to dissolve into molecules, snatched away from his ship.

Alarms sounded through his ship and, moving swiftly back to the control console, the Bounty Hunter found the reason lying close by... an Issian vessel. The temptation to stand and fight was swept aside when he realized that they were evenly matched in firepower though he believed he would be the eventual victor. Shock waves rippled through his ship, the shields flaring as they dissipated the energy of the bolts sent against him, but he hesitated to fire back. Fox Mulder would be on board the attacking Issian vessel, and if he destroyed that ship then he would also be destroying the exotic mate of his beautiful obsession, Alexei.

With a stab of his thoughts he sent a crippling barrage against the Issian ship, watching it flounder uselessly yet knowing it was still intact and able to defend itself. Frustration filled him as he watched the crippled ship drawing away. He resisted the temptation to snatch Fox Mulder back from the stricken craft, knowing that the Issian would have ensured Mulder was out of the reach of his technology, allowing him only the single recourse of personally boarding their craft.

And that would be suicide.

He smiled... there *was* another option. He sent his ship soaring away from the damaged Issian ship knowing that it would not be able to follow immediately, and aware that he had also crippled their communication's array. He would take Alexei from his primitive human companions on Voyager, and then it would only be a matter of time before Mulder gave himself over to him just to be with his precious mate once more.

However, it would be a race against time to reach the Delta Quadrant for the Issian would know his intentions and would try to reach Alexei first. He frowned at the paradox of the situation. Being long-lived he ought to have all the time he needed, and yet victory or defeat would hang on just the smallest fraction of time... perhaps even just minutes or seconds.

-ooOOoo-

Mulder howled as he appeared inside the Issian ship. Moments later, the ship rocked violently though the forcefield cushioned his body, but he saw the controls glowing and sparking in the room beyond. He watched, helplessly, as the familiar Vulcan form of Scully's companion, Sepek, reeled as he tried to regain control of the ship.

And then all fell still and silent. The Vulcan turned to face him with his dark eyes inscrutable, lacking any show of emotion.

"He is gone."

"He's gone after Alex."

"I know."

"Then we have to--"

"I am sorry. My ship has been damaged in the attack. We cannot follow."

"No. No. Alex--"

"I must repair the communications array. I must send a warning to my brethren... and then I will take you back to Earth where you will be safe."

"No. This ship is like his. It has transwarp abilities. I can give you the co-ordinates--"

Sepek had turned away to work on the control panel but he interrupted Mulder. "Our people are already lying in wait."

Shock rippled through Mulder as he digested those words. If they were already there then they could have brought Alex home to him, perhaps within a few days of Voyager contacting Starfleet with their discovery of the mothership and its sixty-four survivors.

"Why?" Mulder moved so close to the edge of the forcefield that he could feel it buzzing through his skin. He pressed closer, gritting his teeth against the tingling vibration that increased as he tried to push his hand through the unseen barrier. Beyond the forcefield, Sepek remained focused on his work.

"We could not reveal our presence to your people--"

"You've just done that--" He frowned, suddenly realizing that Sepek said *our people* but Mulder was not a Vulcan. "Who are you?"

As Mulder had no great experience of Vulcans, he felt no shock at seeing a sad smile cross Sepek's face when the 'Vulcan' turned, momentarily, to face him.

"We have been seeking this Bounty Hunter for centuries... more so since he took the life force of the one you knew as Jeremiah Smith."

"Jeremiah's dead?"

Sepek nodded grimly. "And the one who committed this crime has eluded us for centuries... but we knew he would remain close by, waiting for the time you left the sanctuary of Earth. What we did not know was that Alexei still lived, and that he would be found." Sepek looked away. "He is obsessed with your mate... and once he has Alexei he may disappear for centuries."

"He wants me too."

"Yes... but he knows you will go to him eventually because he will have Alexei."

"And Scully?"

Mulder saw real emotion fill the Vulcan-looking face as Sepek replied softly. "Her life will be spent in constant fear, never knowing when the hunter will return to carry out his orders and take revenge upon her for his people."

"But she's immortal--"

"Though not immune to pain. He could bring her an eternity of pain... and that would be unacceptable."

Mulder swallowed hard, trying to imagine spending eternity suffering at the hands of the Bounty Hunter. Then he realized that he and Alex would suffer a similar fate, though it would be mental rather than physical anguish; an eternity forced to satisfy the sexual urges of a being that knew only duty and cruelty.

Sepek remained silent for a moment, his dark eyes closed as if in meditation. When he opened them, he looked across at Mulder.

"My people have been warned. We will not let him take your precious Alexei without a fight."

-ooOOoo-

 **Holodeck, USS Voyager  
Delta Quadrant**

Janeway frowned as she watched one of her newest crewmembers at helm control on the holographic bridge constructed as a teaching program. Tom Paris had asked her to come along and now she understood why. Alex's fingers flew across the board with a skill and precision that she had only seen bested by Tom, but there was more to piloting than just knowing how to control the ship. To be a competent pilot there had to be a sense of spatial distance, and an ability to understand the limits of the ship so as not to exceed its structural integrity. To be a hotshot -- like Tom -- the pilot also needed an innate ability to become one with the ship and to have instincts in battle situations for evasive maneuvering.

Alex Krycek had all of those abilities -- and more -- but the most amazing aspect was that he had built up these abilities in a phenomenally short time.

She was thankful for the small self-powered forcefield that stopped her from spilling from her command seat as Alex set the holographic Voyager spinning away from her assailants, flipping in an incredibly tight circle to gain a superior position over the enemy.

Phasers fired: impacting against the attacker's shields and disabling its warp drive, leaving it dead in space. Behind her, manning the weapons console, Tom whooped with pleasure and she was unable suppress her own smile of triumph as the computer brought the program to its natural end.

Alex turned in his seat, a brilliant smile lighting his handsome face and his eyes glowing greener than ever with delight.

"Well done, Mr. Krycek. It seems you have an exceptional protégé, Mr. Paris."

"Oh, I don't deserve any credit. Alex's a natural."

"I don't doubt it."

"Captain to the Bridge."

Janeway's grin of pleasure faded as Tuvok's disembodied voice reached her through the ship's communication system.

"Janeway here."

"You wished to be informed should our... ghosts reappear."

"I'm on my way. Tom, with me."

Janeway gave one last, almost apologetic smile towards Alex before heading for the exit, "keep up the good work, Ensign". As she walked briskly along the corridor to the closest turbolift, she pondered on the many anomalies they had come across since arriving in the Delta Quadrant, but none were more amazing than Alex Krycek.

Discovering that his genetics might hold the key to preventing the Borg from slowly assimilating every living creature in the galaxy was the most important of all. She had seriously considered turning the ship around and heading back to the last communications position in the hope that they might be able to send all they had discovered back to the Federation. However, there was every indication that it would take another four months for the right set of circumstances to appear that would enable Starfleet to bounce a signal to them. If they continued on towards home then another opportunity might present itself far sooner.

As she stepped out of the turbolift onto the bridge, she turned her thoughts to the problem at hand. Twice before, there had been ghosting on the outer edge of the sensor web on a previously unmonitored wavelength. Seven of Nine had first brought it to her attention, and Janeway concurred with Tuvok that it might be nothing... or, then again, it might be an unknown cloaked vessel trailing them. Tom moved swiftly to the helm, relieving the crewman seated there, having been uncommonly quiet during their journey to the bridge.

"Report, Mr. Tuvok."

"Sensors indicated a small mass -- the size of a Federation shuttle -- for 1.26 seconds. Extrapolation indicates that the... anomaly... is on a parallel course to our own."

"That's a little too much of a coincidence to be a natural phenomenon."

"I concur."

"Mr. Chakotay?"

"We tried maneuvering towards it but... nothing. If it is a cloaked ship then they are making every effort to remain hidden."

"Captain?"

"Yes, Mr. Kim."

"I took the liberty of going through the sensor logs over the past few weeks... and I spotted a few more ghosts."

"Where and when, Harry?"

"When the Borg attacked they... Captain, I think they deliberately triggered our sensors to warn us of the Borg."

She sank down in her command seat and cupped her chin in her hand as she leaned towards the viewscreen that, currently, showed only the passing starfield.

"Why are they shadowing us? And why did they warn us?" She looked up abruptly. "Ask Ensign Krycek to come to the bridge."

Through her peripheral vision, she could see Chakotay flicking through the data Harry Kim had transmitted to him. He sat up straighter, frowning. "Captain, the first ghost appeared only days after we informed Starfleet of our discovery of the Colonist mothership."

"You think it's connected," she asked as she turned towards him.

"It's a little too much of a coincidence," he replied, mirroring her earlier words.

"I agree."

"Captain, long range sensors are picking up a 'ghost' heading on an intercept course. ETA 42 seconds."

Janeway looked over her shoulder at Tuvok, seeing the intense concentration on his face as he studied the tactical display in front of him.

"Go to amber alert, prepare to raise shields--"

"Two more 'ghosts' moving to intercept the other ship. They are firing--"

"Raise shields."

Flashes of blue and green illuminated the starfield on the main viewscreen like fireworks in a night sky. Long-range sensors absorbed even greater information concerning the 'ghosts' as the mystery ships' shields fluctuated under the heavy firepower. Despite being outnumbered two to one, the single ship twisted and turned with amazing grace, spitting out retribution upon its attackers.

Janeway drew in a deep breath as one of the original 'ghost' ships took a serious barrage, its cloaking device failing; the ship lying crippled in space. Her lips tightened in dismay as the single ship turned and fired upon the helpless one, wincing as it exploded violently, the light extinguished immediately within the vacuum of space. The other ghost took a crippling blow and limped away. Janeway held her breath for a moment and was strangely relieved when the single ship ignored it.

The unknown ship's cloaking faded away as it approached Voyager, and behind her Janeway heard a sharp intake of breath. She looked over to see Alex Krycek staring wide-eyed with shock at the strange craft rapidly approaching.

"Mr. Krycek?"

"Colonist."

"Evasive maneuvers. Tom, get us out of here."

She watched as his agile fingers danced over the controls, feeling the power surging through the ship as he called upon extra ounce of energy. They flashed into warp but the Colonist ship followed. Voyager rocked as an explosion brushed against the port shields, and Tuvok confirmed the worst.

"Port shields down 42 percent."

"Delta-four-nine, Mr. Paris."

"Aye, aye, Captain," he responded even as his fingers stabbed at the sequence of commands that would implement that specific evasive maneuver. "He's still gaining--"

Voyager rocked again as another bolt of energy glanced over the starboard nacelle and the ship slowed suddenly, dropping out of warp.

"Direct hit. Warp engines offline."

"Mr. Krycek, tell me you know a weakness in thi--" she cut off abruptly as a white light formed around Alex Krycek and, moments later, he was gone. "What happened? Tell me he's still on board."

Janeway stared at Tuvok; her long association with him allowing her to read the minute changes in his facial expression that read both shock and then dismay.

"Ensign Krycek is no longer on board Voyager."

"The Colonist ship is leaving--"

"Track him." She stabbed at her Comm control. "B'Elanna, I need those warp engines online now."

B'Elanna's disembodied voice came over the communications system from where she was working in Engineering. "Sorry, Captain. The last hit burnt out the power couplings. I'm going to have to replace them."

"How long?"

"Ten minutes... eight at best."

"Do your best, B'Elanna." Janeway stared out the viewscreen as the Colonist ship winked out; knowing it had gone into warp or possibly even transwarp. "Try to raise our surviving 'ghost'. They may be our only chance of retrieving Alex Krycek."

-ooOOoo-

Alex felt a moment of disorientation and then his eyes opened wide at a sight he hoped never to see again -- the inside of a Colonist FOO fighter. Old memories assailed him, of being trapped in the darkness of Silo 1013, the Black Oilien seeping from his eyes, nose and mouth before sinking into the craft. He recalled the days that followed as his calls for help weakened through lack of food and water.

It had come for him then, only nourishing his body so it could perform its tests upon him. It never cared that he was lucid. It never cared that it was hurting him, ignoring his screams and cries of pain -- and then he had awoken one day to find that it had gone. It had taken all it wanted from him and then left him to die.

A face came into his line of vision, and Alex's lips tightened in anger and disgust as he recognized the human form of the Bounty Hunter. It stared at him, its expression unreadable until a slow smile curved its lips and sent an unhealthy glint into its eyes.

Alex tried to draw back as it reached for him, his eyes widening in horror when he realized he was being held in some kind of forcefield. He glared his hatred into the creature's face as its thick fingers caressed his cheek, pressing his lips together hard as a thumb brushed over them.

"Still so beautiful."

Fingers reached up to card through his hair and Alex held back a whimper of anger and futility as the Bounty Hunter kissed him, clenching his teeth to stop the thick tongue from invading his mouth. He closed his eyes, not wanting to dwell on the obscene sight as the Bounty Hunter allowed the illusion of clothing to drop from his equally illusory large frame. He opened his eyes in horror as he felt his own clothing being peeled from his body, layer-by-layer, knowing what the end result would be.

"Yes. So beautiful... such a pity I do not have Fox as well--"

"What?"

The Bounty Hunter drew back as the last of Alex's Starfleet uniform dropped away leaving him naked and defenseless, and still almost frozen in the stasis of the forcefield. His breaths came hard and irregular as the Bounty Hunter reached through the forcefield once more to trace the outline of a nipple, hating the auto-response of his body to the stimuli. Reasoning won out as he allowed his horror to override his body's response.

"But now I have you, perhaps he will not be so inclined to refuse my attentions."

"Bastard," Alex whispered savagely as the Bounty Hunter continued his assault on his body, stroking his skin from shoulder to hip before skimming across the flat of his stomach, sending sparks of unwanted pleasure rippling through him. A cool hand wrapped around his still flaccid shaft, the thumb flicking at the sensitive tip, and Alex choked back a cry of outrage as his body started to betray him once more, slowly hardening in the alien's firm grasp.

"No." He closed his eyes, trying to think of anything that would send his body back into quiescence but, as always, Fox Mulder was waiting behind his closed lids, beckoning him with memories of their loving. "No," he choked out another soft cry of denial, tears squeezing between his eyelashes to trickle down his cheeks.

He felt the Bounty Hunter move behind him, one hand still sliding tightly along his engorged flesh while the other stroked his ass. He felt a finger trail along the valley between his asscheeks, and he moaned in despair as it flicked across the opening to his body.

He wanted this. He wanted to be filled, wanted to be taken long and hard... but not by this creature. He wanted Mulder. He wanted his true lover.

The touch ended abruptly and Alex opened his fear and tear-filled eyes to find the Bounty Hunter scrabbling back towards the control panel of his ship. The Hunter gave an inhuman scream as a light surrounded him, his human form dissolving to reveal the familiar shape of a small Gray with bulging dark eyes on a narrow face.

With a start, Alex realized that the stasis field no longer held him motionless, and he stepped back from the struggling Bounty Hunter as another column of light filled the interior of the ship. As the world dimmed around him, Alex heard a soft voice whisper reassuringly, "I have come to take you home, Alexei Krycek."

-ooOOoo-

 **Stonehenge  
Salisbury Plain, England, Earth**

The Department of Ancient Sites and Antiquities had been protecting this ancient henge for centuries, though the name of the department had changed from era to era. The place still held the same magic, attracting thousands of visitors a year, and not just Terrans. Other races found themselves caught up in the romantic history of the Stones, wondering if they were a place of human sacrifice, or if other far more outlandish theories explained their positioning upon the empty plain.

Druids still flocked to the Stones every Summer Solstice, no longer held at bay by the authorities after taking their right to practice their ancient beliefs in their ancient holy grounds to the highest courts within the Federation. Strangely, it was the Vulcan representative that carried most of the weight that gave them what they wanted, but then, Vulcan had many ancient temples and holy places that were honored long after Surak turned the Vulcan people away from emotion and towards logic.

It had not mattered that the Stones had been there long before the first Druid arrived. Their claim was ancient... and upheld.

For Jared Davies, the problem had always been differentiating between the true Druid and those just wanting to 'soak up the atmosphere' of this ancient place during the Summer Solstice.

Today would be no different, and already a sizeable group filled makeshift tents scattered in the fields surrounding the ancient monument.

Davies shook his head, already adept at differentiating the true Druids from the gatecrashers by their strange markings and customs, and by their reverence. He paused in his circuit of the Stones, and waited for the sunrise, knowing that it would appear just fractionally off center because of the passing millennia since the stones were first erected. A silence fell about the ancient place as the sun began to rise behind the Heel Stone. Just as it reached the tip, creating an illusion that it was balancing on top of the stone itself, a column of light filled the ring, centering on the altar stone.

Once the initial shock left his system, Davies raced forward, sending a communication to his superior as he ran. When he reached the altar stone he saw a figure coalescing out of the white column, and heard a rush of gasps as a prone and naked man appeared. He gained only an impression of pale flesh against the gray of the stone as he raced forward, and yet the presence of the man had seemed so... right. His dark hair spilled across the stone like a small pool of blood.

Davies reached the stone and touched the still warm flesh, seeking proof that this was a living, breathing humanoid. He gave a silent prayer of thanks as he felt the strong and steady beat.

Druid priests pressed closer, eager to see the gift their Gods had brought to them this day but Davies fended them off. He ordered an unprecedented site-to-site transport and had the naked man whisked away to safety in case some psychopath decided that this man had been brought to them to be a human sacrifice.

In the modern office of the Stonehenge authorities, the man seemed far less ethereal and yet, strangely, far more fragile. Davies pulled off his regulation jacket and laid it across the still unconscious man, chewing his lower lip in concern as he waited for a team to arrive. While he waited, the image replayed in his mind, over and over, and he saw the long, dark lashes lying in dark semi-circles over the high cheekbones. The ivory flesh had shone luminescent in the column of white light, giving an otherworldly effect that had not diminished in Davies's eyes.

Figures shimmered into existence within the small office, and one was obviously a medic. He watched as she dropped down beside the still figure and ran a medical tricorder over the man. Davies knew that information would be relayed directly to the Federation computers in an attempt to identify the man but he was more surprised when, only a few minutes later, another three columns of light filled the already crowded office.

A tall man with green/gold eyes and an expression that mixed supreme happiness with awe and fear dropped down beside the recumbent figure, taking one pale hand in his own.

"Alex?"

Davies watched as the sinfully long lashes fluttered, slowly revealing eyes of soft fern green. They focused on the man kneeling beside him, and as he heard a ragged whisper of a single word, 'Mulder', Davies realized he was witnessing more than just the happy reunion of friends. The two men threw themselves into each other's arms and hugged as if Death himself was trying to drag them apart.

Davies looked across at the Starfleet Admiral, noticing the glint of unshed tears in the man's eyes that mirrored his own, and he smiled, knowing that this was one summer solstice he would never forget.

-ooOOoo-

High above the Earth, Sepek monitored the arrival of Alex Krycek on the ancient landing site used by alien races for thousands of years before the humans reached the stars. It seemed a fitting place, especially as the area was devoid of the more sophisticated monitoring devices that *might* have penetrated his ship's damaged cloaking field, exposing his presence to Starfleet. He had sent a message to his leadership a few hours earlier, requesting that his anonymity be revoked following the hunt and capture of the last -- and most dangerous -- of the Colonist bounty hunters. The request would take weeks to reach his galaxy... and many more weeks would pass before he received a response. Until then he had to follow his orders and restrict knowledge of the Issian to a select few.

Sepek glanced back over his shoulder at the small gray Colonist seated cross-legged on the floor inside the restraining force field. The Bounty Hunter did not seem half as intimidating now that he had taken his true form but Sepek knew that looks could be very deceiving. He wondered at the obsession of the Bounty Hunter that had dulled his keen predatory senses. His own people had taken a great risk in boarding Voyager and inserting a transponder inside Alexei Krycek... just in case. It had been a calculated risk but had paid off in full measure. Sepek shuddered at the thought of how easily it might have been to lose the young one -- Alexei -- had they not taken that risk when they did.

It seemed strangely disconcerting that he could now return home and he pondered on this thought as he saw the evidence of a Starfleet transporter being activated at Stonehenge.

Sepek smiled as sensors indicated that Fox Mulder had, finally, been reunited with his chosen life partner, seeing the two unique genetic signatures merging as they pressed close to each other. For a moment, Sepek thought of his home galaxy, and realized that there was no life partner waiting for him there. In truth, the only joy he had found in another's company had occurred during this last century as he watched over Dana Scully.

His thoughts turned to the immortal human female, recalling her intelligence and beauty, and he realized that he did not want to leave her side. He monitored the transportation of Mulder and Krycek to ensure they reached the relative security of Starfleet headquarters, silently acknowledging that his task here on Earth was now complete. Within moments his craft leapt into transwarp but he dropped out into normal space soon after, hovering over the red planet that had been his home for the past century.

By now Scully would have learned that the brother of her heart had been reunited with his beloved. He felt momentary indecision, and then recognized that he still had a role to play in this galaxy. Decision made, Sepek contacted the sole remaining Issian ship and arranged for them to rendezvous with him. Their response came immediately, informing him of the damage to their ship that was quickly being repaired. Sepek informed them of his decision to transfer the prisoner over to them to escort back to the Galactic High Council. In the meantime, he would wait at the Temple on Vulcan for his people to decide if they should make formal contact with the Federation now that the Colonist threat to Earth had been completely subverted.

He smiled softly as it occurred to him that even if the Council refused formal permission, his order to remain with Dana Scully might never be rescinded for there would be great benefits to 'keeping channels open' albeit informally. With a lightness of spirit, Sepek allowed his thoughts to return to the beautiful Dana Scully as he waited for the arrival of his people.

-ooOOoo-

 **The Temple of Fal Tor Reh  
Vulcan**

The communication from Starfleet brought welcome relief to Scully and she sat down and stared up into the night sky, her eyes automatically seeking the star that warmed the planet of her birth. She smiled, knowing that Mulder had finally been reunited with Alex -- on Earth -- just as the psychic had predicted more than three hundred years earlier. It had brought to an end a part of her extended life -- but she had no regrets, for these past centuries had been a time of waiting, unable to take her life too far forward, or travel as widely as she would have liked. Still, she had used those years to build the Foundation, achieving an incredible amount of research in areas that she had only dreamed of prior to Fellig taking her death. Across the Alpha Quadrant were many more research stations financed by the Foundation, seeking cures to disease, solving ecological problems, and building faster, cleaner machines and weaponry to protect the Federation from the surrounding empires -- and from the Borg.

The Borg.

Once the Colonists had been defeated the Borg would take their place as the greatest threat to humanity, and to the Federation of Planets. Much of the Foundation's research over the past decade had been geared towards neutralizing the threat of the Borg but with limited success. Borg technology was far more advanced purely because they took what they needed from the minds of those they assimilated, storing an amazing amount of information that meant they could react quickly to new weaponry or defense shields created by the Federation.

Scully knew that the answer to defeating the Borg lay in their nanotechnology. If they could find a way to disable or attack the nanoprobes injected into a person during the assimilation process, then they would be able to fight back.

Beneath this ancient temple lay a maze of catacombs housing an extensive research station filled with laboratories, and with libraries filled with information. Her research work for the past decade had been based on the Borg nanoprobes, and their similarities and differences to the nanocytes once injected into AD Skinner by Krycek. Unfortunately, the lifespan of the nanocytes was too short to be of great use, and all her work to extend that lifespan had come to naught so far.

She sighed, as her thoughts turned to the Vulcan who had been her constant companion and research assistant for the past century. It had never occurred to her that he might be anything other than a Vulcan as he had come highly recommended to her all those years ago. However, she had recognized the light that had encircled him as he disappeared immediately after Mulder, presumably to rescue him.

He was one of the faceless rebels. She knew this even though he had not taken that form in the transporter light.

She did not know whether to be angry or pleased. On one side he had betrayed her trust by masquerading as another, and she wondered what had happened to the true Sepek for she could not believe that he could have invented himself from thin air. Was the real Sepek dead, his body vaporized to leave no trace of his passing? Had the real Sepek been replaced at some point over this past century? Or had the Rebel been masquerading as Sepek from the very beginning of their acquaintance?

It seemed most likely that this last was the case, as she had not noticed any difference in him over the one hundred five years since they first met. In which case, it hurt more that she had lost a person that she had grown first to respect as an equal in intelligence, then admire for that intellect and for his physical looks and grace, and then... yes... she had grown to love him too.

Part of her hoped that he would return to Vulcan now that he had rescued Mulder and seen him reunited with Alex, wanting an explanation. However, the other part of her dreaded learning that he had shared nothing with her, no pleasure, no companionship, and that everything between them had been a lie.

A circle of light illuminated the small meditation garden where she liked to sit and think, and Scully saw the familiar Vulcan form materialize before her. She stood up and faced Sepek, schooling her eyes with practiced ease after long association with the emotionless Vulcan people, to hide the raging emotions that flooded through her as she waited for him to make the first move.

"You know what I am. You do not know *who* I am." He paused, showing true emotion for the first time in all the years she had known him. "We must talk."

"Yes," she replied firmly, indicating towards the seat that she had just arisen from. He sat down at the far end, body turned towards her, and Scully felt her hopes rise as he began to slowly explain his role, telling her all she wanted -- and needed -- to hear.

-ooOOoo-

 **Starfleet Medical Center  
San Francisco, Earth**

Mulder watched through tear-filmed eyes as the doctor ran a medical tricorder over Alex, unable to turn away for even an instant lest he look back to find Alex had been snatched from him once again. As soon as the doctor snapped shut the tricorder, Mulder stepped back up beside his long-lost lover, reaching out to grasp the hand that lifted towards him. Fingers squeezed tightly around his and he would have gasped at the pain if his own fingers were not wrapped just as tightly around Alex's hand.

"Is Mr. Krycek fit to answer questions?"

"No!"

Mulder raised an eyebrow in shock as the vehement word left *his* lips, registering the surprise that crossed the faces of those present. He looked down at Alex but saw his pale lips quiver into the ghost of a smile, as if recognizing Mulder's sudden possessiveness. Feeling a little embarrassed, Mulder schooled his features to defiance and looked back up at Admiral Paris, the hardness softening at the smile playing across the Admiral's face.

"Perhaps just a few pertinent questions now... and then a full debriefing after he is rested."

Mulder looked back at Alex, knowing it was an order rather than a request, and he noticed that the tiny smile had become a grin. He sighed in resignation, shaking his head in the knowledge that even *he* had questions that he wanted answered.

"Perhaps we could adjourn to my office and we can talk over a meal?"

Mulder nodded, realizing that he would not have Alex all to himself for a few more hours yet but then he chuckled softly. Only a few hours ago his lover was on the other side of the galaxy, far from his arms. Only a few weeks ago -- in his time frame -- the rest of the world had presumed Alex was dead... gone forever. He had spent his last waking moments storing up memories of Alex as he waited to enter a cryogenics chamber, hoping that he would sleep away the decades with dreams of Alex.

A few more hours in the company of others would be a 'walk in the park' compared to those months he spent alone on Earth after Alex disappeared, for at least he would have Alex by his side. He watched as fresh clothing was brought forward, surprised when Alex started to pull on an ensign's uniform without any confusion.

"Something you forgot to tell me?"

Alex looked across at Mulder and grinned. "I joined up for the duration and, technically speaking, I'm still a part of Voyager's crew... until released from duty."

Mulder saw the smug expression on the Admiral's face. "The information came in the last eighty-four second communication window with Voyager. I concur with Captain Janeway's recommendation... and with Starfleet ruling 58552, which allows Voyager personnel to retain any rank conferred upon them during the course of Voyager's perilous journey home. Battlefield promotion... extended to civilians," he added.

Alex climbed unsteadily to his feet, still weak from his run-in with the Borg and then with the Bounty Hunter. A site-to-site transport took them straight to the Admiral's office and he was grateful for the first order given to him by the Admiral.

"Take a seat, Mr. Krycek."

He sank into the contoured seat, unsurprised when Mulder sat down close beside him. He let his knee swing outward slightly until it touched Mulder's, enjoying the warm sensation of having his longed-for lover within physical contact after so many weeks apart according to his time frame.

If Admiral Paris noticed this impropriety then he made no mention of it, and Alex slowly relaxed. He knew a little bit about this man from conversation with his son, Tom, and he knew the Admiral would force aside his own personal desires and questions, and place duty first. Even after only a few weeks apart from Mulder, having slept away the centuries on board the Colonist mothership, Alex could understand separation and loss. There had been a time when he had assumed he had lost Mulder because of the passing centuries that spanned more than a human lifetime. There had been many more days when all he had was a holographic image of Mulder, and a fake reflection in the bathroom mirror to console him at their separation.

Alex decided to mention Tom Paris at every reasonable opportunity, knowing that would not be too hard, as they had become firm friends towards the end. He recognized the small glimmers of gratitude that lit eyes as blue as his lost son's.

Admiral Paris's aide had gone straight to the replicator situated in the corner of the office, and Alex grinned when he realized that there would be no rationing here. He could order anything he wanted, no longer needing to concern himself that an inexpensive 'meal' would mean spending the next week eating Neelix's well-intentioned but terrible culinary concoctions.

Strangely, though, when it came to his request, he did not feel all that hungry and so he asked for something plain and simple. He noticed that Mulder did the same, ordering up what used to be a staple for him in those early days when they had first worked together as partners in the FBI: Kung Po chicken with noodles.

The few pertinent questions took up several hours as the story of the past three and half centuries unfolded, though he skimmed over the episode with the Borg, knowing that this could be dealt with in full at a later date. Otherwise, he had a feeling he might spend the rest of the night being poked and prodded by Starfleet Medical when the only person he wanted touching him was Mulder.

"I have to ask this. Why did the... Bounty Hunter... want you?"

This was the part Alex had been dreading, uncertain if he wanted to admit to the obsessions that had fueled so many of the darkest moments in his life. He recalled how Spender had obsessed over him, even to the extent of paying look-a-likes to service him; look-a-likes that were quickly discarded, sent to the mothership's to be used as hosts for the parasitic Colonists when they could not appease Spender's obsession for *him*. He didn't understand why the Bounty Hunter had formed such an obsession, though he had to admit that it had not been apparent until after the Rebel aliens had genetically altered him.

Alex decided to try and shrug off what had happened but Mulder spoke first.

"He wanted Alex to be his... mate. Wanted both of us... though mostly Alex. Can't say I fault him his choice." Mulder grinned though Alex noticed that it quickly faded in the knowledge that, twice now, the Bounty Hunter had found him because of Mulder. Alex had been lucky this second time for the creature had not been given the opportunity to abuse him as it had the first time it caught him.

He could see that the Admiral still had plenty more questions regarding the strange events surrounding them but Alex wasn't certain he had the answers to give. At least not yet. What he desperately needed was time alone with Mulder... and sleep.

As if his desire had communicated itself to the Admiral, he heard the words that he longed to hear.

"We'll adjourn this until tomorrow at 13.00 hours."

Alex gave a silent sigh of relief as he pushed up from the comfortable seat. He was so tired now, barely able to keep his eyes open and grateful for the strong arm of his lover that supported some of his weight as they made their way from the office. Within a few more minutes they had reached the transporter room and were quickly beamed half a world away, back to the Resistance headquarters where they had last held each other all those centuries ago.

They moved swiftly to the bedroom that Mulder had abandoned after Alex disappeared, unable to sleep in a room filled with too many memories after the loss of his lover from his side. Alex barely registered how little it had changed, almost believing time had stood still for them, unaware that Scully had preserved these rooms for them, wanting them to find some old familiarity in this new world.

As soon as they were alone, Mulder pulled Alex into his arms, wrapping his arms around him and holding him so tight he could barely breathe... but it felt so good. His own arms held onto Mulder, feeling the taut muscles beneath the thin tunic he wore. His head bowed under the weight of exhaustion, falling onto Mulder's shoulder, and he smiled warmly as a hand reached up, enjoying the gentle fingers that carded through his hair while Mulder rubbed his cheek against him.

"You're tired. Let's go to bed." Mulder's words whispered in one ear. "We can hold each other all night."

"Hmmm... sounds good."

With great reluctance, they parted, pulling back far enough to stare into each other's eyes, and Alex easily read the love and joy shining from Mulder.

"God, I missed you," he murmured softly as he memorized Mulder's features anew, seeking each new line and surprised to find none. If anything, Mulder looked younger despite the fatigue dragging at the edges of his eyes and mouth.

His mouth.

Alex licked dry lips as he focused on the full lower lip. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Mulder's, tongue tip flicking out to lave the soft lips, and he hummed in appreciation as the familiar taste of Mulder burst over his senses. Mulder cupped the back of Alex's head, fingers splayed to hold Alex against him as the kiss deepened, parting those plump lips to accept Alex's welcome intrusion.

Alex inhaled deeply through his nose, the scent of Mulder filling him. His other senses ignited, spinning with a pleasure that radiated throughout his body, and racing down nerves to tingle at every nerve ending until he had never felt so alive. All thought of sleep was swept aside as the primal need to be one with his soulmate took possession of him: mind, body and soul.

His hard erection tented the material of his Starfleet uniform as he ground his pelvis against Mulder's, joyously meeting the hard evidence of Mulder's need as Mulder thrust back. He moaned his delight when Mulder turned more aggressive, tongue thrusting between Alex's lips, twisting and coiling, dueling with his own as he fought to re-learn every square millimeter of Alex's mouth... and Alex welcomed him, welcomed the taste of his lover, and welcomed the power behind the demanding possession.

He felt Mulder's hands reach for the opening to his uniform, tugging the material apart and dragging it from his shoulders. The possessive mouth swiped away, sharp teeth nipping at his bare shoulder, sucking hard on his skin to raise welts of passion as Mulder stripped the uniform from Alex's torso.

He was barely aware of being maneuvered backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed, and then he was falling as if for an eternity before landing on the firm mattress. Mulder followed him down slowly, lips worshipping every inch of exposed flesh; tongue laving a nipple and sending bolts of pleasure flashing through Alex.

He sobbed out his need as Mulder sucked and bit and kissed a path down his body, his own hands fisting the cover beneath them after Mulder forced him to release the tight grip he had on his lover's hair.

Cool air flowed over his heated flesh as Mulder tugged the uniform down over his hips, and he gasped as warm breath fanned over his groin before a hot mouth enveloped him. Alex tried to buck up into Mulder's mouth but strong hands held his hips still. He cried out as the sensations built rapidly, searing through him, igniting his body as he climbed higher and higher only to hover, weightless and free for a moment in time that stretched into infinity before he plummeted back to Earth.

Sometime later, he opened dazed eyes, trying hard to focus on the brilliant smile hanging above him and realized that he must have passed out from the shattering combination of exhaustion and pleasure. Golden sunlight filtered through the curtains where, before, there had been silver moonlight, and he felt the crisp sheet covering his totally naked flesh.

With a flash of realization, he knew he had slept away the night having selfishly taken what he needed from his generous lover.

"I'm sorr--"

Mulder leaned in and kissed away his apology. "I'm not." Then Mulder lay back with his head nestled on Alex's shoulder, one arm loosely draped over Alex's torso, and one leg tucked between his. Alex stroked the rich brown hair, fingers tracing the curve of an ear, the sweep of the jaw before a thumb brushed over the kiss-swollen lips.

Finally, he was home... with his lover back in his arms... where they both belonged.

-ooOOoo-

 **Twenty-Three Years Later  
San Francisco, Earth**

Alex glanced around the small gathering feeling a little self-conscious as he saw the continuing signs of advancing age on familiar faces while he and Mulder had remained unchanged over the years. The atmosphere on this seventh anniversary of Voyager's return was bittersweet as always, filled with joy at the reunion yet sadness in remembering those who had not made it. He recalled the beautiful Seven of Nine who had died three years after the Bounty Hunter had snatched him from the ship.

Would it have made a difference if he had still been on board and had been part of the landing party on that fatal mission?

He thought of the others who were missing from this reunion. Chakotay had died not long after Voyager's return to Earth, but he had not been the same man that Alex remembered from those weeks on board. The laughter in his dark eyes had been missing, lost after losing his beloved wife, Seven. Alex had noticed their attraction to each other while on board Voyager, perhaps because he was seeing them through new eyes rather than through the eyes of someone who had shared their voyage from the beginning. He sighed softly, recalling the subtle hints he had dropped to Chakotay though, according to Tom, they had not found the courage to turn desire into reality until some six months after he had been returned to the Alpha Quadrant -- and to his own lost love, Mulder.

There was one other face missing -- Tuvok. The Vulcan had succumbed to a hereditary disease that robbed the mind of its full reasoning powers, reducing him to the intellectual level of a small child. The only cure had been light years from Voyager's grasp, on the Vulcan home world; a mind-meld with one of his kin or with a master of the Kolinahr would have saved his mind. In many ways, Alex was glad he had not been on board Voyager to witness the slow degradation of that brilliant mind. He and Tuvok had shared a rapport that had surprised many of Voyager's crew but they had discovered a level of comfort between them from almost the first day. Perhaps it was the mix of Vulcan and Russian stoicism but Alex had enjoyed having Tuvok for a mentor during the time he spent on board.

He glanced across at Janeway, seeing the increased pain in her eyes as she watched the gathering and yet her expression also held a glimmer of hope. Alex gave a small smile. He knew all too well why Janeway held that look for he had been the one to put it there. It had taken seven years to put his idea into action but the fruit of his labor was about to be plucked from the forbidden tree.

Seven years ago he had watched Voyager limp home, witnessing first-hand the devastation of the years upon the people he had known and had grown to admire -- if not love -- during those few weeks following his rescue from the Colonist mothership. He still had dreams where he saw their faces, reliving scenes from his life on board Voyager as he recalled the uniqueness of the people he had met. Though disparate, they had bonded through adversity, bringing him into their unique family and holding him there even though he had been a part of them for only a short time.

They had brought Reg Barclay into their family too, rewarding him for his tireless pursuit of a way to make contact with them over the vast distances separating Voyager from home. In the sixteen years that followed he had been instrumental in finding shortcuts that shaved almost twenty years off their journey.

Sixteen years instead of thirty-five, and in all that time only one decent opportunity to come home faster had ever presented itself -- but it had held too high a risk. Voyager had stumbled across the Borg Nexus hidden inside a nebula some six months after Alex arrived back on Earth. It was a hub leading to countless transwarp corridors, and extensive study by the Foundation had determined that one of the corridors opening out into the Alpha Quadrant would have led Voyager straight to Earth in a matter of minutes.

Voyager had no choice but to turn away from the Nexus for they would have been riding straight into the demon's lair. They would have been captured -- and assimilated -- long before they ever reached even one of the corridors leading towards home. No one questioned Janeway's decision even though it took Voyager another sixteen years to get home.

However, seven years ago he had waited upon Earth, wanting to witness Voyager's arrival home and though it had been great to actually see Tom and Harry again in the flesh rather than as holographic images, he had missed the others he had once known. Every single one of Voyager's crew held the scars of those long years. Even Tom, who had but a few years left to live after contracting a disease back in the Delta Quadrant, from a race known as the Camrasse. It was gradually killing him from the inside out... like cancer.

Seven years.

It had taken seven years for all the pieces Alex needed to fall into place -- and then he had hit the greatest snag. Someone had to take all those pieces back into a past that had happened only six months after he was snatched from Voyager but Mulder was adamant that it would not be one of them. Mulder was willing to sacrifice the twenty-three years they had spent in each other's arms in the firm belief that they would merely have those years over again. However, he was not willing to take the risk of Alex going back to the Delta Quadrant of the past with no guarantee that he would not end up trapped there for the next sixteen years.

After all, tampering with time had its dangers.

Three days ago, Alex had come across the perfect solution, and had, indirectly, offered that chance to return to the past to Admiral Janeway. From the look on her face the wheels were now in full motion, and one of the final pieces of the puzzle -- obtaining a vital piece of new temporal technology from an eminent, though untrustworthy, Klingon -- was about to be placed on the board.

There was only one more item required by Janeway and though Alex might have been able to supply her with that item directly, he had long ago accepted the necessity of subterfuge. He had let his agents slip her information concerning the Borg retrovirus, created from a mix of his and Mulder's nanocytes, and had ensured that one of those special people from Voyager had been placed in a position where they could obtain a sample.

Alex smiled as the Doctor entered with a beautiful woman on his arm. Being holographic, the Doctor had not altered in his appearance and Alex grinned as he considered the subterfuge that lay ahead for the Doctor.

Pushing all thoughts of the future aside, Alex mingled with old friends, laughing with Harry and Tom until it was time to leave, and then he looked for Mulder, eventually finding him engrossed in a debate with the Doctor. He smiled at Mulder, knowing he was still as much in love with him as he had been from the beginning of their acquaintance, perhaps even more so, and knowing that time could not erase that love.

He had a strong feeling that tonight would be the last night they would share in this timeline, and that everything would change the moment Janeway leapt back into the past. If his hopes held true then tomorrow might see everything shifted into a new timeline. One where Seven of Nine would share a long life with Chakotay, where Tuvok would live free of the debilitating mental illness that would slowly strip him of his intellect and dignity... and where Tom would never met the Camrasse.

"Let's go home," he said softly to Mulder, enjoying the glint of arousal that crept into the beautiful eyes, "And make it a night to remember."

Mulder leaned in and kissed him softly before drawing back. "If Janeway follows through on *your* little scheme then this night won't be remembered for long."

Alex gave a wry grin. "Okay... how about I say... Let's make the most of tonight, and tomorrow be damned."

"Tomorrow being damned wasn't what I had in mind..." The breath of his soft whisper caressed Alex's ear sending shivers of expectation through him as he contemplated the night ahead of them. "I'm expecting tomorrow to be another day in paradise... with you."

"You been watching those cheesy porn flicks again, Mulder?"

"There are times when I don't believe you have an ounce of romance on your soul."

Alex looked at the bottom of his shoe. "Well, there was something stuck on my sole but I don't think it was romance I scraped off."

"Ha, ha, ha," Mulder grinned. "Come on... let's go home."

Alex said a quick round of good-byes and then moved to Mulder's side, his lips suddenly dry as he took one last look at these people he had come to care about.

"Phoenix, energize," he said softly into his com-badge, and the scene dissolved, coalescing into the familiar transporter room on board their private ship, the place that had been their home for more than twenty-two years. Alex felt an arm slip around his waist, suddenly aware of how drained he felt. For seven years he had been working towards this moment, and now he had to let go and let Janeway see it through to its completion. If she did not succeed then nothing would change... but if she *did* succeed then he would have no memory of the work he had put into making it happen.

They moved slowly to the bedroom they shared. The many years together had taught them that the slow-burning looks and tantalizing touches could increase the pleasure of their coupling. Ever aware of each other's presence they moved through the control center: a brush of hips as they came together and then drifted apart, a hand pressed lightly to a shoulder or arm as one leaned across the other to perform a small check or take a reading.

They completed the ritual tasks for the ship, murmuring orders and acknowledgments in soft voices before accepting that all was well in their small world. Finally, they entered the plush living quarters that surrounded the center of the small but powerful ship.

Smoldering glances were cast in each other's direction as they stripped slowly. The tips of tongues sneaked out to wet suddenly dry lips, leaving both sets glistening as their eyes were caught and held by slowly exposed flesh. Pheromones, once unnoticed but now so familiar, filled the room, permeating the air about them and stoking the fires of passion with growing anticipation of the glorious night to come.

Mulder moaned softly, no longer able to contain the pleasure that assaulted his senses as he looked upon his chosen mate. Alex's scent surrounded him, sending his mind spinning with a desire to taste and touch the ivory flesh that revealed itself to him alone. Green eyes captured his, holding him fast before dropping provocatively downward, drawing Mulder's attention to the tight fitting pants. His heart began to race, chest heaving as agile fingers teased open the clasp, the material dropping away to reveal the creamy skin of abdomen, hip and thigh, lightly-furred in a soft down of dark curls that grew thicker as they centered on the eager flesh standing hard and proud.

Without conscious thought, Mulder dropped to his knees before Alex, the tip of his tongue reaching for the pearl droplet beading on the flared head. He murmured his approval as the bittersweet taste burst over his senses, inhaling the heady aroma of masculinity before lapping at the sweet offering once more.

Fingers swept through his hair and the softest sigh drifted down from above as Mulder drew the hard, wanting flesh into his mouth. His tongue pressed against the sensitive tip, his hands reaching out to clasp the firm curves of his lover's cheeks, kneading the silken flesh as he accepted the tiniest of thrusts from rolling hips. Mulder knew Alex would try to restrain himself, wanting to prolong the pleasure. There were times when nothing gave Mulder more pleasure than to slowly torment his lover, delicately licking, sucking and biting until Alex lost all control, emptying his essence deep into Mulder's mouth. But not tonight. Tonight he wanted to feel Alex inside another part of him. Tonight he wanted to be possessed. Tonight he wanted to be filled with the heat of Alex's hardened flesh.

He pulled away, grinning softly at the groan of dismay coming from Alex as Mulder released his prize with one final, lingering lick. Mulder stood up, moving back several paces towards the bed as he gazed into his lover's desire-filled face, his breath catching as he fell headlong into pools of darkness surrounded by a corona of glittering green. Needing a tremendous amount of willpower, Mulder broke away from the heated look, quickly discarding the remainder of his clothing before sprawling backwards onto the bed, his intention clear.

He watched through lust-narrowed eyes as the beautiful form of his lover drew close, not needing to draw the lines and curves from memory as he paid visual homage to the reality. Powerful muscles, honed by clean living and hard workouts, rippled beneath silken flesh, as Alex stalked towards him like a prowling cat, sleek and agile. Mesmerized, Mulder waited, pleasurable uncertainty filling him as he wondered if Alex would pounce upon him or slide seductively over him.

He sighed his appreciation as Alex crawled onto the bed between Mulder's parted legs, tongue striping along the inside of his thigh, sending quivers of delight rippling deep into Mulder's belly and groin. The tongue lapped over his heavy sac, soft lips parting to draw the lightly furred flesh into the moist heat as Alex gently sucked upon each of the delicate contents in turn. He released them finally, only to lap the firm column of Mulder's erection from base to tip, tongue dipping into the tiny slit, tasting him with a gentleness that had Mulder bucking his hips upwards in search of greater contact. His punishment was a soft laugh as Alex drew away, and with a growl of frustration, Mulder grabbed the strong shoulders and flipped Alex over onto his back, swiftly rolling on top of him and pinning his lover beneath him.

Giving in to his need, Mulder dove for the still smiling lips, almost brutal, as he pressed hard against them, demanding entrance to the moist cavern. Alex sighed in willing acceptance, opening to Mulder, allowing Mulder to taste the sweetness of the wine they had been drinking at the party. Yet beneath that sweetness lay another taste, wondrously familiar and so unique to Alex. He groaned deep into the welcoming mouth as fingers found one nipple, teasing and pinching the sensitive flesh, sending more daggers of passion spiking through Mulder. He drew away until he was kneeling above Alex, not wanting to break the kiss but desiring even greater intimacy from the man he loved beyond life.

With shaking fingers, Mulder reached for the small jar of scented ointment standing close at hand. He slowly anointed his own body, fingers sliding deep inside as he prepared himself for his lover. Once he was ready, Mulder grinned down at his trembling lover as he slowly impaled himself on his lover's hard flesh, sinking down until his asscheeks pressed against Alex's soft yet muscular thighs. He closed his eyes for a moment, wanting to dwell only on the pleasure and pain of muscles stretched taut around the fullness of Alex's hot and hard flesh. He took his own wanting shaft in hand, forcing Alex to lay still beneath him with hands fisting the soft sheets while Mulder slowly rode his lover.

Every gasp of pleasure, every flutter of the dark eyelashes became imprinted on Mulder's mind as Alex submitted to Mulder's control, allowing him to dictate the pace of their lovemaking. Mulder could feel the pleasure building in Alex, could feel the trembling in the tensed muscles as Alex drew closer and closer to the edge. A ragged sigh fell from kiss-swollen lips as Mulder felt the heat of Alex's release deep inside him and, quickly, he brought his own pleasure to dizzying heights, his essence spilling across his lover's sweat-slickened belly and chest.

Mulder flopped down across his lover's chest, uncaring of the rapidly cooling stickiness pressed between them, still impaled upon the now softening shaft.

In this quiet moment when body and mind were replete, his thoughts often turned to the miracle of their relationship, recalling those early days filled with anger and a sense of betrayal. Only a thin line separated love from hate and he had walked the razor edge between the two for many a year before acknowledging that what he felt for Alex was love. Someone once said that faith could move mountains, and Mulder knew that love had the same power. The strength of their love for each other had carried them through danger and through the obsessions of others. It had given him the courage to go on at a time when Alex seemed lost to him forever, and it had given him faith that he would have Alex by his side again.

In these past twenty-three years they had spent barely a single day apart, neither wanting to relive the lonely days and nights when they believed they would never see each other again in this lifetime.

Mulder lifted his head to nuzzle the soft, vulnerable throat, tasting the saltiness of sweat beading upon the ivory flesh. He smiled wryly with a sense of nostalgia. Gone were the days when he would feel the rasp of bristles, his lips and skin turning red from friction burns as he nuzzled against his lover. The modern day beard inhibitor left their skin soft and supple for weeks on end. He hummed softly in pleasure as he planted gentle kisses on the pale throat, lips pausing to pay homage to the steady pulse that tingled against his flesh.

Alex. His Alex, alive and whole, lying in a tangle of limbs beneath him. All too soon he knew Alex would start to fidget as the spent seed dried on his skin, and then the softened shaft would slip from Mulder's body. Mulder knew he would mourn its loss until the cleansing ritual had been completed and they lay back in each other's arms once more.

Fifteen minutes later, with both of them clean, Mulder lay back on the bed and opened his arms to welcome his lover back into his embrace. With Alex by his side once more, he closed his eyes and sank into sleep...

-ooOOoo-

 **Twenty-Three Years Earlier...**

...Mulder awoke, sitting up and stretching easily before looking back down at the beautiful man lying close to his side. The rumpled white sheet, dislodged when he sat up, lay across his lover's narrow hips, covering the lower half of the otherwise naked body. Mulder felt a temptation rise within him to flick aside the sheet and gaze upon Alex in all his glory, but as his eyes reached his lover's face, angelic in sleep; he did not have the heart to waken him. Instead Mulder gazed around the luxurious sleeping quarters on board the newly built ship that the Foundation had given to them.

The Phoenix was everything they wanted. Sleek, fast, small but incredibly powerful, with a weapons array to match many of the larger Starfleet vessels. Having spent most of the past six months on Vulcan, providing Scully and Sepek with samples of their unique DNA, he and Alex were eager to take to the stars -- just the two of them alone. They had no need for a crew for the ship was small enough to require only them, and Alex's piloting skills were now even greater than previously demonstrated to Janeway on board Voyager barely six months earlier.

Sepek had explained the reason for Alex's rapid development. When Spender had captured Alex and forced him into the cryopod, the Colonist retrovirus had tried to overcome his Issian DNA. In the battle for survival, part of the Issian genetic coding had been triggered. Then later, during the battle with the Borg drone, his nanocytes had been forced to fight the Borg nanoprobes, triggering further codes that had remained dormant until then.

Heightened perception, greatly improved co-ordination skills and increased mental agility were just part of the changes. Mulder knew he had experienced similar changes when the strange fragment, covered in Navajo hieroglyphics, had triggered his Colonist DNA that Dr. Merkmallen had discovered off the Ivory Coast in Africa.

Until recently, he had believed that Spender had done something to him to counteract the changes he had experienced. Now he knew that those changes had merely been muted rather than removed, lying dormant until triggered once more. Perhaps it was exposure to Alex, the way they touched in body, mind and spirit, but this time his increased abilities had not exploded over him, sending him spiraling into mental overload. Instead they had blossomed slowly, unfurling one soft petal at a time.

Beside him, Alex began to stir, his long, dark eyelashes fluttering open to reveal the beautiful Baltic green eyes that had captured him from the very first time he looked into the elfin face. Alex yawned widely, then moaned in soft appreciation as he stretched his long, lean yet muscular frame. Pink, delicately bowed lips parted to show a glint of whiteness as he grinned softly up at Mulder, and Mulder felt his heart skip a beat with pleasure.

He leaned down and captured the pink lips, sighing his satisfaction into the welcoming mouth while his hands moved to caress the naked chest, fingertips swirling over an exposed nipple. A guttural moan of pleasure breathed into him as the nipple tightened with pleasure, and Mulder tore away from the luscious mouth, wanting to feel and taste the taut bud.

He raised his head abruptly as a strident alarm filled the ship, eyes widening in shock as he looked down into equally startled green. With one swift movement, Mulder leapt from the bed, dragging on a form-fitting jumpsuit before he headed for the control center with Alex barely two paces behind him.

"Computer. Identify alert."

"Starfleet Command has identified a Borg vessel on a direct course for Earth. Estimated time of arrival.... one minute and forty-one seconds--"

"Enough."

Mulder looked up as the starfield on the main viewer disappeared to show a tactical display. Seventeen ships were already moving to meet the threat and data confirmed nine more were on their way. Swallowing hard, Mulder recalled the last time Starfleet had tried to repel a Borg attack, suffering heavy losses at Worf 359. Part of him felt an urge to order the Phoenix into flight, taking her -- and more importantly, Alex -- as far away from the coming battle as possible in the hope that they would evade detection. However, another part of him still wore the mantle of leadership that he had taken up after Alex disappeared during that last covert operation into the Colonist mothership. He had pledged his life to saving the billions of defenseless humans from invasion, and all that had changed was the enemy they faced.

Mulder turned as he felt Alex's hand grasp his arm and he looked across into eyes that mirrored his own in intensity and acceptance of a sworn duty. Mulder watched for a moment as Alex sank down into the pilot's seat, seeing the agile fingers caress the controls. He opened a channel to the Admiral's flagship.

"Phoenix to Admiral Paris. We are standing ready, awaiting orders."

"Welcome, Phoenix. Take position between Lightfoot and Pandora."

Alex's fingers flew over the board, sending the Phoenix hurtling forward to take up position beside her brothers-in-arms. In the meantime, Mulder prepared weapons in readiness for when Alex would need to deploy them, and then he turned his attention to the rest of the ship, ensuring they were battle-ready.

There was a moment of silence as the last few seconds ticked away, and then Paris spoke again, voice firm. "Use all necessary force."

A transwarp corridor opened directly ahead and a Borg sphere dropped out into normal space, heading straight towards the Earth. As one, the small fleet leapt forward to intercept, slamming to a halt when the Borg sphere exploded from within, and bracing for impact. As the vacuum of space swiftly consumed the fiery mass, the klaxon sounded while the Phoenix shuddered as debris bounced off her shields.

"Shields at 62 percent."

Mulder swore then frowned as a strangely familiar shape took form where the Borg ship had been. He turned in surprise when Alex let out a whoop of delight, and then he realized what he was seeing -- USS Voyager.

Eighteen ships formed an honor guard around the previously lost Voyager, escorting her on her final leg towards home while subspace came alive with joyous greetings and gratitude from the beautiful green and blue world spinning majestically below.

-ooOOoo-

 **Second Borg Nexus  
Delta Quadrant**

She had once been called Marita Covarrubias, and although she could access the memories of that one being with relative ease should she want to, the voice had become almost lost within those surrounding her. These were her hive, and she their Queen, their only Queen, for the other had been lost to them only days before along with tens of billions of drones.

A virulent virus had swept through the Borg, and resistance had been futile. It had ripped through the nanoprobes' defenses, disabling them and causing massive internal failures in each drone. There were many who would survive being disconnected from the Collective, but far more would have perished, their reliance on their Borg implants too great to sustain their remaining fragile organic tissue.

She had only been spared along with her personal drones because the old Queen had disconnected them from her Collective many months earlier. Hers was a new Collective, a new hive. She had started with nine drones but the numbers had already swollen close to one hundred as they preyed on small ships passing too close to the hidden Nexus. She knew the growth rate *could* be exponential if she allowed it. A hundred could become a thousand, then tens of thousands, perhaps even billions. However, she wished to remain cautious for the question uppermost in her mind concerned the virus that had practically wiped out the Borg.

Where had it come from?

Then another question formed that was of equal importance.

How could it be stopped?

While this virus existed she would need to assimilate with caution; aware that a single infected being brought into her Collective could see the end of the Borg's existence.

A new mind entered the Collective and she smiled, reaching out to subdue its frightened call. She sighed softly as its memories merged with the others until it was fully assimilated. She frowned as it brought fresh information that the virus had originated in the Alpha Quadrant. Her mind drifted through the billions of pieces of information available to her, and then paused on the memory of the one who had been Marita, seeing a beautiful human male that she had once thought to possess, and had once known with physical intimacy.

Her memories stripped away the outer layers of his clothing to the perfection lying beneath; perfection that had once seemed marred by the truncation of his left arm. She saw the ancient, clumsy prosthetic he had worn and imagined it replaced by an efficient Borg limb. She considered his face, trying to visualize the Borg enhancements upon it, and she hissed in anger at the very thought of replacing those beautiful green eyes with mechanisms, no matter how much more efficient they would be.

She turned and stared at her reflection in the gleaming metal of the wall beside her. Most of her body had been replaced with Borg mechanisms, and her silver-blonde hair was no more, but her face remained unmarked, her gray-blue eyes unchanged, shining like pale sapphires against her snow-white complexion.

She was beautiful... and should *he* ever cross her path in his lifetime, then she would assimilate him. She would make him a part of herself, and keep his organic perfection beside her forever.

-ooOOoo-

 **Earth  
Alpha Quadrant**

Although he knew most of them through Alex, Mulder held a special place in his heart for the people of Voyager. First they had saved Alex from his tomb on board the Colonist mothership, and then they had befriended him, helping him to endure those dark days when he believed he was alone in a cold universe.

Two evenings ago, Mulder and Alex had said their good-byes to the friends they had made in this new time. They promised to stay in contact, for even with the threat of the Borg neutralized; the galaxy would never be a safe place while there were races that knew only aggression towards others.

Still, Mulder had long dreamed of traveling to the stars. It had been his boyhood wish, one that had become submerged for so much of his life beneath a need to discover the truth behind his sister's disappearance.

Now he would be able to fulfill that boyhood wish beyond his wildest dreams.

He smiled softly. It was still hard to believe that he had so much time ahead of him, though it would have been a torment rather than a joy if Alex had remained lost to him. Instead, he had his lover back in his arms, and more time than he ever dreamed of to share with this man who had become the most important part of his life.

He stroked the mahogany hair, loving the slide of the silken strands between his fingers. He recalled a time when Alex had cropped his hair to make it easier to manage during those years on the run from Spender and the Consortium. Now it was longer again, just the way it had been during those early days when they were partners in the FBI. He grinned, pleased that there was no reason for the long strands to be slicked back.

His fingers drifted to the high cheekbones, gliding over strong bone and causing the long dark eyelashes to flutter in annoyance as a fingertip brushed over one. The soft lips formed a pout, deepening the cupid's bow, flaring the nostrils and creasing the bridge of his pert nose in a familiar way that gave Mulder so much pleasure. Alex's eyes opened; the pupils dilated by sleep and reawakening desire, the corona of iris a soft Baltic green around a pool of darkness.

Mulder recalled an idea that the eyes reflected the health of the body, that spot and discoloration of the iris heralded physical problems. Looking into clear, unblemished green, Mulder could almost believe it to be true for he knew the Issian nanocytes had brought his lover to the peak of physical perfection. He wondered if his own eyes were equally unblemished, mirroring the perfect health of his body.

He thought about the past. He thought of the horrors both had been subjected to, recalling the Black Oil that dripped onto his face, crawling along his cheek and into his body. He had held such anger for Alex at that time, believing him doubly betrayed by a man he had once hoped to call partner and friend. He recalled his discovery of the price Alex had paid to get him inoculated with the Russian antidote: the loss of his left arm, cruelly hacked off by the good intentions of Russian peasants.

'I can beat you with one hand'.

"Deep thoughts?"

Mulder grinned. "Do you remember that day you hid in my apartment... Things are looking up?"

The pout softened into a smile of remembrance. "I kissed you."

"Even now, after all these years, I can still feel that kiss on my cheek." He reached up to gently touch the exact spot where Alex's lips had lain that day. "And after... I must have sat there for more than an hour, in the dark, before Scully came. Just thinking about you and me... and destiny, and fate... and how to throw a curve ball."

Mulder rose up onto one elbow and looked down into a face that he would never tire of gazing upon.

"You were the inextricable relationship in my life that was neither accidental nor somehow under my control. With you, I felt I was wielding a double-edged sword... the blade cutting deep no matter which way I slashed and parried... hurting me, hurting you. Yet, no matter how hard I fought against us, no matter how hard I tried to hurt you... and push you away. Some part of me kept reaching out to draw you back. Some part of me could never let you go."

Alex smiled softly, one hand reaching up to cup Mulder's face. "Then don't let me go... ever."

Mulder chuckled softly. "Oh, I don't plan to... ever."

Mulder leaned down and caught the tempting lips with his, deepening his possession of the man he loved as their tongues entwined. His hands smoothed down soft skin covering firm muscle and hard bone, every hollow and every curve already firmly embedded in his memory. He settled his weight between the parted thighs, gasping at the electricity of pleasure that coursed through him as his hard, eager flesh ground against his lover's firm abdomen. Slowly he rocked against the willing body, rejoicing in the slowly building sensations that sent warmth radiating along every nerve, until his senses overloaded.

Mulder gasped, his body trembling in ecstasy as he found his release within his lover's tight embrace, unresisting when Alex flipped them over, reversing their positions. His hands cupped the firm asscheeks, fingers digging into hard muscle as Alex's movements became frantic with need. Liquid heat erupted between them, the flood heralded by a soft cry of satisfaction that fell from kiss-bruised lips. Alex's head fell heavily upon Mulder's shoulder, and Mulder could not resist gliding one hand up from the curve of ass, over the length of the strong back to the head pillowed upon him. His fingers tangled in the now sweat-slicked strands of dark hair.

With his body temporarily satisfied, and his mind and soul soothed by Alex's presence, Mulder drifted towards sleep.

As they slept, the Phoenix traveled at a low warp speed through the empty stretches of space, its automatic guidance systems and extensive shielding protecting them. Within a few days they would arrive on Vulcan, where they planned to stay and explore that world for a short time before they say goodbye to Dana Scully.

Then they would continue on with their journey to the stars and beyond -- together, forever.

THE END

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

March 2003


End file.
